


How to Inefficiently Acquire a Human Male in 98.6 Earth Days

by noodleinabarrel



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Break Up, Clingy Jim, Confused Spock, Convenient Plot Devices, For Science!, Having Fun With Idioms, Inspired by a Movie, Jealousy, M/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Moving In Together, Oblivious Spock, POV Spock, Starfleet Academy, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodleinabarrel/pseuds/noodleinabarrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim Kirk joins the xenolinguistics club, Professor Spock is drawn to the cadet despite his better judgment. Soon, Spock finds himself in a friendship he never asked for, a relationship that is quickly evolving into something more than he can handle. In an effort to free himself from Kirk’s persistent affection, Spock makes use of his anthropological research on human relationships, which has unexpected consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Observations

**Author's Note:**

> The premise of this Academy AU is inspired by the romcom, _How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days_. Thanks to my buddy GeckoEtsu who gave me the prompt! I believe it was something like: "Imagine a spirk version of How to Lose a Guy. Who would be the one trying to lose the guy, and who would be the one trying to win the guy?"  
>  You'll find out who I chose if you read on. ;D
> 
> Written for K/S Big Bang 2014.
> 
> Fabulous accompanying art by [numberthescars](http://numberthescars.livejournal.com/) can be found [HERE](http://numberthescars.livejournal.com/30069.html)!

_Fascinating_.

When Cadet James Kirk joined the xenolinguistics club, Spock had not expected much from the impetuous human. The cadet had spent most of the first 10.6 minutes of the meeting engaging other cadets in conversation of a noticeably sexual nature. 

Urging Kirk on to a more appropriate topic had been unsuccessful. “I don’t understand why tongues aren’t relevant to xenolinguistics, Professor,” Kirk had replied. “We use them to speak.”

“The physiology of the human tongue is not our current topic of discussion, Cadet.”

Kirk leaned forward. “How about the Vulcan tongue?” His face loomed two millimeters beyond the personal boundary space Spock preferred to have around him when among more tactile species.

“The Vulcan tongue also has no relevance to our discussion about the vocal patterns of Cynarians, who, in fact, possess no tongues.” 

The edges of Kirk’s mouth lifted in what Spock believed humans called a smirk. A puff of air escaped from his lips, lifting the hair from Spock’s bangs by 3 millimeters. “Too bad, I was really looking forward to getting to know it better.”

Spock lifted a single eyebrow. “Please be seated, Cadet.”

With a shrug of his shoulders and another sigh, this time 2.3 seconds longer, Kirk moved himself from Spock’s vicinity, and chose a seat next to Uhura. While Spock felt the tension ease from his shoulders with Kirk’s departure, the opposite effect was occurring between Uhura’s eyebrows.

After observing this episode, and three of a similar nature, Spock assumed the cadet had joined the club to persuade one of the members to engage in sexual congress with him. Perhaps the cadet he lusted for specialized in linguistics and Kirk was attempting to show a similar interest with the means to impress. Spock had noticed in his anthropological study of human courting rituals that similar interests between two pre-bonded couples were an asset to the development of a relationship. For example, his superior officer, Captain Pike, had married his first officer, both of who shared hobbies such as boxing, martial arts and other forms of combat, which were often practiced upon each other. Both parties also engaged in unusual conversation and battles of wit that only seemed humorous to one another. While serving with them aboard Pike’s ship as his science officer, Spock had found the development of their relationship unprofessional, yet fascinating.

It was also possible that Kirk had an obsessive interest in the humanoid tongue. His observations on the muscle were not restricted to the six humans in the club, or the sole Vulcan, but were also directed at the single Orion, Gaila Vro. While others had ignored his comments or rebuffed them, Vro encouraged Kirk. At the end of that first meeting, they left the classroom together laughing about something Spock had failed to grasp the meaning of. If Vro was the cadet Kirk hoped to impress by joining the club, his efforts had likely succeeded. 

Kirk’s obscene and disruptive conversation continued during the second meeting and the third. From the way they placed their seats together, thigh against thigh, Kirk’s knee pressing against Vro’s, her hand moving up Kirk’s knee, Spock predicted the two cadets had decided to court each other. Orions must place high value on one’s familiarity with tongues. Spock noted this away is his eidetic memory for later study. 

“I can’t keep my eyes off of you,” Kirk murmured, placing his hand on top of Gaila’s. She moved to whisper something in his ear. Kirk grinned in response. 

The display was uncomfortably intimate.

This week, Spock had chosen to focus their discussion on Klingon linguistics. As Cadet Uhura was the only member who had professed a middling knowledge of Klingon, Spock thought the subject would prove a suitable challenge. He had given the group copies of a Klingon opera to listen to and translate. Due to their lack of skill in the language, Spock was not expecting much success. However, the exercise would test their focus, while immersing the cadets in a different ethnic art form that highlighted many aspects of Klingon cultural norms and values. 

Cadets Endilev, Atwood, Woo, Uhura and Vro had shared their translations from Klingon into standard. As Spock expected, Uhura was the only one who translated more than a few stanzas correctly. Most had managed to grab only a few sentences from the piece after a single listening. 

Kirk was glancing around and tapping at his PADD erratically. “Crap. Were we only supposed to listen to the opera once before translating the thing?”

“An exact number was not stated,” Spock answered. “You were welcome to listen to the piece as many times as you wished. It is an excellent example, in musical and dramatic form, of how Klingons establish their social hierarchy based on battle prowess.”

“That’s a relief,” Kirk let out a long breath and shifted in his seat, leaning back and crossing his legs. “I must have listened to that thing around thirty times. I couldn’t get a single word out of it during the first few. Those drum or gong things that kept going off were really distracting and when the singers are screeching and hollering, it’s hard to tell what they’re really saying behind all the screeching and hollering.” He glanced at everyone around the room with a smile. “And I didn’t want to be the only idiot with nothing translated.” He laughed.

Spock lifted an eyebrow. Truthfully, he had predicted Kirk would listen to the opera once and come to the meeting with nothing translated. Or abandon the whole project in favour of engaging Vro’s company. He had misjudged Kirk’s attention span.

“Your dedication to the task given is commendable. Please share your translations with us.”

“Well, I didn’t get much, but…” Kirk swiped a finger across his PADD, “during the first part, the main guy, you know, the one with a really deep voice mourning the death of his brother…” Kirk read three Klingon phrases from his PADD, his pronunciation barely comprehensible, and filled with dramatic asides on the characters’ motivations. “Then, after his crazy solo—couldn’t get anything during that part, the guy was yelling too quickly—he says something like, ‘You have no honour, I will avenge my brother!’” Kirk slapped his chest dramatically. “For the rest, I got only a few words here and there.” After reading some more translations from his PADD and speaking the accompanying Klingon, Kirk looked up, his eyes darting to Spock’s. “Uhh, is that right?”

“Your translations are, essentially, correct. However, the protagonist’s wife is named Durani, not Kaloth. Kaloth is his sister.”

“Whoops,” Kirk exclaimed with another grin. Spock did not understand the cadet’s pleasure over making a mistake. Another human quirk, perhaps.

Kirk did not have an ear for communications—deciphering only the plot’s basic essence after listening to the opera thirty times, verified this. Nevertheless, Spock was impressed with Kirk’s dedication to what was meant to be a simple aside project for the cadets between the daily demands of their credit coursework. 

Spock did not want to be impressed, but he irrefutably was. He had underestimated the cadet.

Fascinating indeed.

*

Kirk continued to show resilience in the face of his failings during the next four club meetings. Spock assigned the cadets to translate an Andorian short fiction piece, a Tellarite communicator manual and a Gorn poem. As usual, Kirk’s translations lacked finesse, his memory requiring continual repetitions to remember the most basic vocabulary. However, he enthusiastically took part in group discussions, asked more questions than even Uhura, Spock’s most promising pupil, and showed an insatiable curiosity about the cultures of other species. He also volunteered to be treasurer for the club. Spock wondered when the cadet slept. Unlike Vulcans, humans required several hours of unconscious rest every night, yet Kirk’s energy appeared limitless.

Kirk approached Spock as he was heading out the door after their fourth meeting, and walked into step beside him. “Thanks for sticking with me, Professor. I really appreciate it.”

Spock turned to Kirk. “We are not ‘stuck’ together. No adhesive substance has been applied to our bodies and twelve inches of distance remains between us.”

Kirk smiled and took a step closer. “How many inches now?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “5.6. Are you testing the accuracy of my ability to measure distance, Cadet?”

Chuckling, Kirk shook his head. “Just having fun. What I really mean though is thanks for answering all my questions and dealing with my crappy language skills. And for not telling me to shut up or, you know, to stop interrupting all the time.”

“I am an instructor of communications. It is my job to answer students’ academic queries and to develop their knowledge in alien languages and culture. No thanks are required.”

“But still, thanks.” Kirk patted Spock on the back. A brief touch, the impact dulled by clothing, yet the chaos of human emotion that echoed within that single graze unnerved him. Spock stepped to the right to resume their original twelve inch distance. Kirk abruptly clutched his hand to his side and then moved it to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he breathed. “Bad habit.”

Although the cadet had been remiss touching a Vulcan without permission, Spock illogically desired to put Kirk at ease. “I have been gratified by your enthusiasm for alien cultures. Your queries during meetings have enabled productive discussion. There is no need for you to,” he paused, “shut up.” Praise was illogical in this situation. Spock moved his hands behind his back, clutching his fingers together with gratuitous force. 

Kirk’s cheeks flushed from his regular pale tan to a light pink. Spock cocked his head to the side, fascinated by the sudden pigment change. “Oh, well, happy to help. This stuff is pretty interesting. Can’t wait to get out there,” Kirk flung his hand in a northerly direction, “and actually see and hear it all.”

Like his Klingon pronunciation, the cadet required assistance in improving the clarity of his native tongue. “I assume when you say, ‘out there,’” Spock replied, “you are referring to vacuum space, and planets that are not part of the human colonies.”

“Perfect translation, Professor.” Kirk smiled.

Spock tried not to be amused. “Human colloquialism is an interest of mine. I am gratified to see my studies are ‘paying off.’”

“You know,” Kirk replied, “If you need anyone to study humanisms with, I’d be happy to help. It’d be my way of saying thanks for all your help in the club.”

“I already stated that no thanks or reciprocation is required. I am only doing my duty as an academy professor.”

Kirk fidgeted with his fingers, rubbing a thumb back and forth across his palm. Spock’s eyes were drawn to the movement for several seconds before he glanced away. “Sure, whatever you say,” Kirk murmured. “But, the offer stands if you ever change your mind. Who else can you learn human stuff from better than an actual living breathing human?”

Spock was growing unusually restless. The cadet’s logic, however, was sound. “Your offer has been noted, and your reasoning is logical. I will think on it.”

“Cool.” Kirk grinned.

Their conversation had come to its natural conclusion, yet Kirk remained by Spock’s side as he walked toward lecture hall number three for his afternoon class. Kirk, as a command major, was not one of his pupils. It was almost as if, as Kirk had previously joked, they were indeed joined.

Spock came to a halt. So did Kirk.

Turning toward Kirk, Spock lifted a questioning eyebrow. “Do you require anything else, Cadet?”

Kirk rubbed his neck again. Perhaps he had strained it while reading the Gorn poems Spock had assigned for today’s meeting. The cadet had an unbalanced posture and was prone to slouching. “No. Well…” Kirk trailed off. “Thought I’d walk with you to class. I got permission from Pike to sit in on one of your classes.”

Spock’s eyebrow dropped. “I was not informed of this.”

“I’m informing you now.” Kirk lifted his shoulders. “Is it a problem?”

Spock could think of no logical reason to refuse the cadet. There were enough seats in the classroom, and today’s class would prove useful to Kirk’s unpolished Klingon. “Do you not have other classes to attend, or studies to pursue?” Spock asked. “You are enrolled in the accelerated command track, are you not?”

“Yeah, I am. But no classes at the moment and I can finish up my homework tonight.” Another movement of Kirk’s shoulders. “I figured, if I want to get a captaincy, I should know how to do a little of everything, or how else will I know my crew are doing their jobs right,” Kirk opened and closed his right eye. “That’s why I joined the xenolinguistics club, to get some communications experience. Could prove useful in diplomatic missions and the club is more fun than studying a Klingon dictionary in my room alone.”

“I see.” Spock realized he had indeed misjudged Kirk. His desire to join the club had been academic in nature and for the betterment of his command career. “You are welcome to join my class today. We will be analyzing your most problematic language, Klingon. Practicing the speech among your more proficient peers would prove beneficial to your study.”

Kirk snorted, a most strange response, more suited to that of an Earth pig. “You’re kind of a hard ass, Professor, but I like it.”

Spock felt the temperature rise in his cheeks and willed it back to normality, stabilizing his mental shields. “Your time would be more valuably spent improving your Klingon pronunciation instead of evaluating the density of my posterior.” He continued in the direction of his classroom, Kirk by his side, trotting to keep up. Spock glanced at the cadet from the corner of his eye and observed Kirk’s grin expand by approximately 5.7 millimeters.

*

Surely there were more promising individuals Spock could observe. The academy was filled with ambitious young cadets who also possessed intelligence, dedication and aesthetically pleasing features. Yet, Kirk fascinated him, however illogical the reasoning. As Kirk had stated to Gaila during a club meeting, loud enough for all to hear, which belied the intimate nature of their conversation, Spock similarly could not ‘keep his eyes’ off of Kirk. 

Spock's natural curiosity prevailed when Kirk was around. He continuously found his eyes drawn to the cadet when, normally, he would be focused on other matters or his pupils as a whole. After the first class, Kirk sat in on three more of Spock’s lectures. For a human who managed several interests at the same time, and courted the attention of multiple humanoids, the cadet’s eyes had no difficulty fixating singularly on Spock during all three lectures. Kirk’s eyes possessed similar attributes to magnetic substances. They were a most troubling distraction, especially during a class filled with fifty eight other students.

Kirk’s magnetic quality continued outside the classroom. He had the uncanny ability of appearing where Spock did not expect to see him and drawing Spock’s focus immediately. Even if Kirk was fully immersed in conversation with one of his fellow cadets, he would stop to turn in Spock’s direction, grin, wave and call out.

“Hey, Professor! Fancy meeting you here.” Kirk would then proceed to introduce his current companion by name and his or her relationship status to Kirk. The term ‘friend’ was often used.

At first, Kirk would introduce Spock as professor or commander, his official titles. After a while, Kirk switched his address to: “this is my new friend, Spock.”

“I am not your friend.” Spock replied the first instance this occurred.

Kirk slapped him on the back, taboos about casual touch with Vulcans once again forgotten, and laughed. “Oh, Spock, you cold fish!” 

“Although my body temperature is on average 7.6 degrees lower than a human’s, I am not a water-dwelling vertebrate, but a Vulcan.”

Kirk laughed audibly in response while Kirk’s companion at the time glanced at Spock nervously and shifted away.

Despite Spock’s correction, Kirk continued to introduce Spock to his companions as a friend. Deciding it was a waste of valuable time to disagree since this only enabled Kirk’s stream of illogical remarks, Spock yielded to Kirk’s labeling and reminded himself that humans were naturally an irrational species.

Occasionally, Gaila would be in one of Kirk’s rotation of companions. Spock could not establish whether the two cadets were in an exclusive romantic relationship, sporadically romantic in the fickle way of humans, or polygamous. Kirk appeared overly friendly with other women and men. Spock had also observed similar behavior from Gaila. For example, he had once caught her engaged in a noisy locking of mouths with an Andorian cadet in a public hallway. Spock had looked away immediately and continued on his way.

Before being introduced to Kirk’s group of acquaintances, Spock had begun to speculate that Kirk had a singularly intense focus on Spock in particular. This decadent thought was ultimately dismissed. Kirk was obviously a social creature that valued the attention of various species and personalities.

*

As he did every semester, Captain Pike requested Spock’s assistance with a rescue simulation involving teams of two retrieving crew members from vacuum space after their shuttle’s hull was breached during a Klingon attack. The simulation was meant to test command candidates’ responses under extreme and unexpected conditions, such as teleportation and equipment failure. Each participant was teamed with a commissioned officer to attempt the rescue.

Calculating previous circumstantial meetings with the cadet, Spock was not surprised to discover who he had been teamed with.

“Hi, Spock.”

“Cadet Kirk.”

“Guess we’re working together. What a coincidence.” Kirk was attaching the clamps on his environmental suit.

“Indeed.” Spock was beginning to wonder about the validity of these coincidental meetings. 

Pike approached them, placing an arm around Kirk’s shoulder. “Take it easy, kid. No broken bones this time. Remember, it’s just a sim. No one’s going to die.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, and turned to Kirk. “You injured yourself during the last simulation?”

Kirk glanced away, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. “Nothing serious. Bones fixed me up pretty quick.”

“That’s what you call nothing serious?” Pike asked, quirking an eyebrow at Kirk. “Knocking out a wall with an overloaded phaser and getting your leg caught under a collapsed warp core?”

Spock frowned. Being partnered with Kirk could prove dangerous.

“Do your have to do that eyebrow thing too, sir?” Kirk glanced between Spock and Pike. “Both of you looking at me like that—it’s making me nervous. Is this what happens when you spend a whole year stuck in a spaceship with someone?”

“Stop deflecting, Kirk.” Pike crossed his arms. “Keep it simple this time. I know running in guns blazing is your usual style, but sometimes it can’t hurt to think things through a bit. Spock can help you with that little problem of yours.”

“Does your wife get jealous when she sees you fawning over Spock?”

Pike grabbed Kirk’s ear and tugged, causing a resulting wince on Kirk’s face. “If you’ve got nothing intelligent to say, best keep your mouth shut, kid.” He turned to Spock. “Sorry for sticking you with this deadbeat, Spock. But if anyone can whip some sense into him, it’s you.”

“I do not believe whipping is permitted by Starfleet, even for academic purposes, Captain.”

“Too bad,” Pike sighed. “But, I’m sure you can figure out an alternative for Kirk.”

Spock nodded, placing his hands behind his back. “It will not be an easy task, sir. However, I will endeavor to keep the cadet away from overloaded phasers and other hazardous objects.” 

Kirk lifted his eyes skyward. “Two hard asses against one. Are you kidding me?”

Pike squeezed Kirk’s shoulder. “Good luck, Jim.”

After Pike left for the test command center and was out of hearing distance, Kirk nudged his elbow against Spock’s side. “If you’re into the whipping thing, I’d let you do it,” he whispered. “Just saying.”

Spock took a step back. “I am not ‘into the whipping thing.’ Vulcans are pacifists.”

“Sure,” Kirk smirked. “but if you ever change your mind, I’m here.”

Spock took another step away from Kirk. “It would be logical to proceed to the briefing room, so we may become familiar with our mission.” Spock moved away in the direction Pike had taken, Kirk, regrettably, barely a step behind.

The mission was similar to the one Spock had participated in last year with slight modifications. He expected no complications—at least, he had until his current partner had entered the equation. Although Spock had come to admire aspects of Kirk’s personality, Pike’s comments on the cadet’s spontaneous actions in previous simulations gave Spock pause. He would have to be diligent and keep Kirk under control lest injuries occur, specifically to his more fragile human partner.

“Spock, Kirk. You’re up.” Pike motioned them forward to the holosuite entrance.

“Don’t worry, Spock. I got your back.” Kirk attached the helmet of his environmental suit, and lifted a thumb in Spock’s direction. 

Spock stared at him. “That is what I am afraid of.”

Kirk grinned as they entered the holosuite, the deck of a Starfleet recovery shuttle forming under their feet. “Isn’t fear an emotion?”

Spock was prevented from replying by Pike’s voice notifying them that he would be opening the airlock that would propel them into a simulation of vacuum space in, “3, 2, 1.”

Spock braced himself. The sudden pressure and weightlessness of vacuum space, even simulated, was always uncomfortable. Over the comm speaker that linked him to Kirk’s, Spock could hear the cadet gasp and a fifty four percent increase in his breathing rate. Spock glanced over at Kirk. Even though his breathing demonstrated an accelerated heart rate, likely caused by fluctuations in the human’s nervous system in unnatural conditions, Kirk appeared calm, his eyes clear and focused behind the glass of his helmet. Kirk returned Spock’s glance and nodded.

“Spock, you check for survivors in the breached shuttle and I’ll gather up the lost puppies.”

Spock reached for the propulsion on his environmental suit. The purpose of the simulation was to give cadets command experience. Although he was to play at being Kirk’s subordinate, Spock was already beginning to consider mutiny. “There were no canines on the shuttle’s crew manifest. As we were informed during the mission briefing, the crew consists of three humans one Orion and two Andorians.” 

Kirk made an unintelligible sound that echoed over the speaker and through Spock’s environmental helmet. “Please repeat your previous communication, sir,” Spock requested. “The speaker systems may be malfunctioning.”

“Remind me to stop using metaphors around you, Spock.” Kirk was propelling toward the two humanoids floating 7.8 meters from the damaged shuttle. 

Spock drifted into the ship’s broken hull. “I would, yet experience informs me that such reminders would be ignored.” He found two crew members in the cockpit with no life signs, and one in the passenger seat that displayed signs of cranial injury but still possessed a heartbeat. “I have repeatedly remarked on the confusing nature of your speech patterns. All my recommendations for clarity have been unheeded.” Spock linked the cord attached to his suit around the survivor and gently navigated his way through the shuttle, in order to prevent further damage to the unconscious Andorian.

“Yeah, I’m a lost cause. Jim Kirk: human through and through.” Spock noted heavy breathing from Kirk through his speakers. “I’ve found three survivors. No puppies though.”

“I do not understand why you insist on finding canines in vacuum space where there should be none.” The Andorian’s environmental suit flashed a signal indicating he was low on oxygen. Spock hastened his movements.

“It’s a sim, anything’s possible and Pike loves dogs. You found anyone alive in there, Commander?”

“I have retrieved a single survivor, an Andorian. The pilot and navigator had no life sign readings.” There was a notable amount of debris blocking his path back to the hull. Spock started to cross it, using his propulsion jets to keep his movements controlled. “However, the survivor’s oxygen tank is at five percent.”

“Damn, okay. Do you need help getting out of there? I’m dumping these two off at our imaginary rescue shuttle.”

“Negative. I estimate rescue will take 5.7 minutes.” Spock drifted past a piece of broken hull floating across his path, easing the Andorian around it.

“I’m coming to help anyway. Many hands make light work,” Kirk replied.

“It is unnecessary. Two hands are sufficient.” Spock avoided a piece of duranium that looked dangerously sharp, tugging the Andorian close.

“Too bad, so sad. I’m the one in charge this time. For once I get to boss you around. I’m coming to help.”

“I have never bossed you around,” Spock replied as he tucked his legs over the duranium sheet.

“We obviously have different ideas of what bossing around means,” Kirk’s voice hummed through his speaker.

“Your personality is approximately sixty eight percent more demanding than my own.”

“Tell that to every single student in your xenolinguistics class. Remember, the ones I’ve been sitting in on. That kid you called out for messing up his Tellarite translation last Thursday looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.” 

“You are exaggerating. If Cadet Roberts spent less time sleeping during lectures, there would be no need for me to continuously correct his errors.”

“Correct his two errors.” Spock sensed laughter on the other end of the speaker. “In front of the whole class.”

“Those two errors could have caused significant offense if spoken to Tellarites in a diplomatic set--.” 

“Spock--you all right?” Kirk’s voice echoed through Spock’s speaker, uncomfortably loud.

“I am unharmed.” A section of the weakened hull had detached from the wreckage, catching Spock on his arm and pushing him into an uncontrolled spiral. The rope attaching him to the Andorian had twisted around the floating piece of metal. “I appear to be tangled around a piece of debris. The release switch for the rope attached to my suit has malfunctioned.”

“Hold on, I’m here.” Spock saw a flash of movement from where he hung suspended. His hands moved against the rope, attempting to release it. From the breech in the upper hull, a flare of lights temporarily filled his vision. 

“Shit. A warbird just decloaked on our starboard. Looks like the Klingons are back for more action.” Kirk was approaching, pushing pieces of hull out of his way.

“I advise you take more care as you move. You are likely to cause more damage and find yourself in a similar predicament as my own.”

“Yeah, and look where being careful got you. Hanging upside down, tangled up on a suffocating Andorian, waiting to get your brains blasted by some blood thirsty Klingons.”

“You should have remained on the rescue shuttle with the others. We knew Klingons could still be in the area.” Spock toyed with the mechanics on the release switch.

“Stop complaining and let me help.” Kirk moved to the Andorian, unknotting the rope hooked to the belt on his suit allowing Spock to float free. He leaned against the metal and pushed himself upright to face Kirk.

“You should not have returned. Now, you have placed yourself and the two survivors you retrieved in danger.” 

As he looped the Andorian to his suit, Kirk glanced at Spock from the corner of his eye. “Don’t pull that save yourself crap on me. I’m gonna get us all out of here, relax.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “And how do you propose to do that…sir?”

Kirk smiled, drifting closer. “Play dead and hope the Klingons go away.” 

“And if they do not?” Spock asked.

“I’ll figure out a plan B if it comes to it.” Kirk pushed a control on his suit panel and the Andorian’s, the lights on both blinking out. “Turn off your lights.” He pulled a second piece of rope from his suit, latched it on to Spock’s and looped the dead piece that once held the Andorian around Spock’s waist. “I shut down the rescue shuttle’s engine. Hopefully the Klingons will think it’s part of the wreckage and carry on their way until we can get back and warp out of here.”

“It would be wiser to remain within the wreckage until they leave. We will risk detection if we proceed back to the ship while the war bird is in sight.”

“I’m not waiting around for some curious Klingon looking for scraps to find us.” Kirk tugged on the rope between them and lifted the trigger on his propulsion, navigating them out of the broken hull. In his temporarily subordinate state, Spock had no choice but to follow, the rope dragging him behind Kirk securing his fate.

Kirk maneuvered easily among the debris despite the lack of lighting, pulling them behind larger pieces of duranium and scrapped shuttles along the route to avoid the warbird’s vision as it moved along the perimeter. In 8.3 minutes, minutes that illogically felt like hours, they had arrived at the rescue shuttle and closed the hatch. Kirk had Spock attend to the survivors while the cadet started the engines. Through the port window, Spock saw the Klingon ship turn in the shuttle’s direction 3.2 seconds before Kirk put the ship into warp. The simulation ended, and Spock found himself once again in a hologram chamber, Kirk walking over to him, a huge grin spread across his face, already half out of his environmental suit.

“Not bad, huh?” Kirk flung an arm around Spock’s shouders. 

The holosuite doors opened and Pike entered. Glancing between the two, he crossed his arms and walked up the them. “You know we could hear everything you were saying, right?”

Kirk shrugged. “Just trying to keep it natural. Like real life.”

Pike appeared to be holding back expressions of amusement from the way his skin twitched around the creases near his mouth. “Uh huh.” Pike looked at Spock with a questioning eyebrow. “Never thought you’d be buddy buddy with someone like Kirk, Spock. Don’t know whether I should be impressed or horrified.”

Spock moved out of Kirk’s grasp and unlatched the fastenings on his helmet, pulling it off his head. “If Vulcans expressed feelings of awe and disgust, I imagine I would be experiencing a similar paradox.”

“I’m right here you know,” Kirk effused, placing his hands on his hips. “So, out with it, sir. Did I pass?”

“Evidently not,” Spock replied.

“Yes,” Pike stated at the same time.

Kirk grinned. “This is like being punched in the face and patted on the back at the same time.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, kid. You did good—thought on your feet, didn’t get anyone killed, and avoided a possible diplomatic faux pas by avoiding confrontation with the Klingon scout.”

Spock frowned. “Cadet Kirk put his own life and the life of the simulated humans he had rescued in danger by abandoning the rescue shuttle to assist me. If circumstances had been different, all members of the mission would have perished.”

“Now who’s being melodramatic,” Kirk muttered. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there, sim or no sim.”

“The most logical decision would have been to stay with the shuttle and wait for me to return. If I had been unable to extricate myself from the wreckage and return to the ship in time, you should have gone into warp upon detection by the Klingons.”

“Yeah, and leave two people behind to die.”

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” Spock replied.

“Not if the needs of the few can be met without hurting the many, which I just did. You’re welcome.” Kirk’s voice had become raised. Pike held his palms up between the two of them, shaking his head.

“This is a really rousing discussion, but you kids need to get out of my holosuite. I still have two teams to test.” Pike waved them out the doors. “You worked well together. Go have a drink to celebrate, or something.” He gave Kirk a shove out the door before retuning to the observation area.

Kirk turned to Spock. “So, wanna go for that drink.”

“No.” Spock turned, heading toward the changing rooms to deposit his environmental suit.

Kirk jogged after him. “Don’t be pissed at me, Spock.”

“I am not pissed. Vulcans do not get pissed.” He placed his helmet on the shelf beside others of similar size, hanging the suit on a hanger under it. 

“I know it’s not logical, but I wasn’t about to leave anyone in my crew behind when there was a chancing of getting everyone back safely.” Kirk placed his own suit on the rack in the wrong size area. He shoved his helmet beside Spock’s.

Spock paused and turned to stare at Kirk. The cadet shifted under Spock’s observance, his eyes darting between the wall and Spock’s eyes. 33.8 seconds passed.

“Your actions were admirable, if irrational.”

Kirk let out a huff of breath. “Thanks, Spock.” He smiled. “So, how about that drink. My treat.” 

“Vulcans do not consume alcohol.”

“I know, I know, but it’s a tradition for friends and comrades to celebrate after a job well done.” Kirk cocked his head at Spock. Spock found the angle oddly appealing. “Besides, Pike told us to go have a drink and you’re supposed to listen to your superior officer, so let’s go.”

As he found himself increasingly doing when faced with Kirk’s demands, Spock acquiesced. “Very well.”

*

Spock’s communicator buzzed as he was about to partake in his evening meal. He pressed the receive button.

“Greetings, Spock.” T’Pring’s face appeared on the screen, her hand held up in the Ta’al.

“T’Pring.” Spock mimicked the greeting, feeling a momentary shudder of dread.

As was customary, T’Pring immediately declared the purpose of her communication without engaging in meaningless conversation. “Have you made progress on your article for the VSA’s yearly publication?”

Spock paused to contain himself. He and T’Pring had severed their preliminary bond two years ago on mutual terms, yet she remained a formidable force in his life as the editor for the VSA’s scientific journal. A journal Spock submitted articles to every year, mostly on topics of xenolinguistics and anthropology. T’Pring was extremely proficient and exacting in her role and was well suited to the position. Spock had known why she called the moment he saw her face.

“I have been considering many topics, such as Tellarite familial roles, and the Gorns’ interest in physicality. I have yet to settle on a focus for the paper.”

T’Pring raised an eyebrow, slightly accusatory in nature. “The deadline approaches. It is unlike you to delay, Spock. Perhaps living among a more emotionally expressive species has weakened your focus.”

“Negative.” Spock breathed. “If anything I have been overwhelmed by choice. I observed and interacted with many fascinating species during my deep space mission with Captain Pike last year.”

“I see.” T’Pring’s eyebrow had lowered, her gaze unwavering. “But what of humanity? You have been working and living among Terrans for several years. You are in an ideal position to make a study of your maternal species.”

Spock blinked. T’Pring was correct. Living on Earth gave him ample opportunity to experience and witness an alien society. However, as science officer aboard a starship exploring planets other than Earth, Spock’s attention at the time had been on other, unknown species. Now, in his capacity as instructor at Starfleet, he had become more observant of the humans around him, especially the interactions between his students. A memory of Kirk whispering into Gaila’s ear came to mind, followed by Kirk’s offer to instruct Spock on human proclivities.

“Would the VSA welcome a paper on human culture?”

“It would be welcome and most informative,’ T’Pring answered. “If you are in agreement, choose a focus on Terran culture and submit a proposal to me within fifteen days.”

“Understood.” Several ideas were coming to him already. Perhaps a focus on human colloquial speech, or human friendships. Recent interactions with Cadet Kirk had already provided Spock with ample information on both these topics. “Live long and prosper, T’Pring.” He formed the Ta’al.

“Live long and prosper,” she responded in kind before closing the connection.

*

As was Kirk’s habit, he once again detained Spock after the next xenolinguistics club meeting.

“Hey, Spock!”

“As I have repeatedly informed you, Professor or Commander Spock, is the correct address, Cadet. We are on Starfleet headquarters.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Professor.” Kirk’s eyes were unusually bright, most unnatural. “Commander, is it true you programmed this new test every command stream cadet is pulling their hair out over?”

“I have programmed no test favouring a candidate’s baldness. Nor would I ever have a need to.”

‘No,” a bark of laughter. The metaphor was apt. Kirk’s mannerisms regularly reflected those of an Earth canine; most notably, the way he followed Spock around like a domesticated animal. Kirk often reminded Spock of his childhood pet, I‘Chaya, minus the fangs and copious amount of fur. “It was another human saying, Spock. I’m talking about the Kobayashi Maru. The simulation no one’s passed yet.”

“I do not understand why humans conceal their true meanings behind illogical ‘sayings.’ Why not state your facts and questions clearly. It would save time and possible confusion that could lead to multiple misunderstandings.” Spock rested his hands behind his back. If he had correctly observed Kirk’s habits, Spock would be occupied in conversation with the cadet for the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“You know you’re wasting your time. We are the way we are, Spock. Fallible, confusing, illogical. Come on, would you have me any other way?” Kirk was invading Spock’s personal space again. His eyelashes fluttering over his eyes five times more frequently than Kirk’s usual blink ratio. 

Spock lifted an eyebrow, and stepped back. “Vulcans adhere to IDIC, infinite diversity in infinite combinations. I do not mean to change your cultural mannerisms, only to understand them.”

Kirk grinned, this time keeping the distance Spock had established. “The offer still stands, you know. I’d be happy to show you how the human mind works.” He tapped the side of his forehead. “Give you an intimate knowledge on all things human.” Spock’s eyes moved to the meld point Kirk had drawn attention to with his right index finger.

The overture was overly intimate. Spock was unsure if Kirk realized what he was offering or if he was simply playing with human “sayings” again. “I have considered your offer,” Spock paused, considering. “In fact, I have been commissioned by the VSA to write a paper on human culture. Your insights as a member of the human species could prove valuable.”

“Really! Does that mean you wanna study me?” Kirk’s rapid blinking had returned. 

“I suggest you seek medical attention,” Spock observed. “You appear to be suffering from eye irritation.”

Kirk stared at Spock for a moment of rare silence. “Huh?”

“I suggest you seek medical attention. You appear to be suffering from eye irritation,” Spock repeated. Kirk’s auditory system also appeared to be failing. A modicum of concern rose behind Spock’s mental shields.

“No,” Kirk replied. “I meant, what are you talking about?”

“You have been blinking five times faster than normal for a human male. This is often a symptom of eye irritation. Perhaps a foreign substance has entered your cornea."

Kirk closed the distance between them. His abstinence had been short lived. “Wanna have a look for me.” More excessive blinking, and then a wide eyed stare that heightened the distracting colour of his eyes. The appropriate human saying at this moment, if Spock had interpreted the term used by Uhura on multiple occasions when Kirk utilized his eyes in a similar fashion, was, ‘puppy dog eyes.’

Perhaps Kirk had spent an abnormal amount of time around canines during his formative years.

“I am not a doctor. Seeking the assistance of a medical professional would be the logical course of action. Preferably one with experience in optometrics.” 

Kirk burst into laughter again for a more extended period. This time involved a gripping of his stomach area, and hands slapping knees. Was the cadet experiencing indigestion and knee trouble, as well?

Kirk required a moment to catch his breath. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with me, Spock. I just have a tendency to blink more when I see something I like.” He blinked again, once, slowly. “Because I want to make sure I’m not seeing things and that it, or he,” Kirk closed a single eye briefly, “actually exists.” 

Spock was becoming more confused by this conversation the longer it progressed. He decided to address the comment he had fully understood. “Vulcans do not worry.”

Kirk exhaled loudly, what Spock had come to know as the human sigh. “You’re a hard nut to crack, Spock. Ahh don’t even start!” Kirk held up a hand as Spock opened his mouth to protest the logic of this new colloquialism. “Another saying--I’ll explain it later. Anyway, you haven’t answered my question, yet.”

“I am indeed facilitating the Kobayashi Maru test.”

“Ha! Knew it.” Kirk replied. “So is it really unbeatable? There has to be a crack somewhere. Give me a hint, huh?’

“I will not.”

“Pretty please.” Kirk pressed his hand against Spock’s arm. Spock tensed.

“…Negative.”

Kirk issued a series of moans that made Spock reevaluate his earlier theory about indigestion. “I’ll just have to beat it on my own then.”

“Indeed.”

Kirk continued to stare at Spock as the silence stretched between them. There was an increase in pressure between Kirk’s hand and Spock’s arm. Spock blinked.

“Huh. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you blink before.” Kirk leaned forward. “You sure you’re not the one experiencing irritation of the eyes?”

“I am not. Vulcans blink as humans do only less regularly, due to our second eyelid providing the necessary protection and fluids.”

Kirk’s lips parted slightly. Spock’s eyes moved downward. “You have two eyelids?” He peered at Spock, his face leaning 2.6 inches closer than previously. “No way.”

“That is what I said. Vulcans do not lie.”

“Really?” A smile. Spock wished to move his eyes upward, to view the crowd, or the landscape, anything other than the movement of Kirk’s lips. “Then tell me, Spock. How can I beat the Kobayashi Maru?”

“I cannot, and will not, tell you. A refusal to answer an impertinent question is not a lie.”

Kirk shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying.”

“Indeed, I can. Attempting to coerce an instructor into revealing the specifics of a graded Starfleet evaluation undermines the values of the Academy. As you are enrolled in the command track, you are expected to display the integrity expected of Starfleet officers. If, as you frequently have noted in my presence, wish to become a captain of a Starfleet vessel, it will be necessary for you to become a model for your subordinates to follow, rather than a bad influence.”

“You gonna tell on me, Spock?” The outright dismissal of Spock’s reprimand made him question the health of Kirk’s ears again. Medical attention would be necessary before Kirk’s entire body system failed.

“As your attempts to pressure me into revealing confidential information has failed, I will not. However, desist from future immoral behavior, particularly actions that suggest you are trying to use your sexual prowess to extract information from me. It is unethical, and useless. I am Vulcan. The possibility of fornication does not motivate my actions.”

“So, you think I have sexual prowess?” Kirk grinned, and moved another foot forward. There were two inches between them now form nose tip to nose tip. “I was beginning to wonder if you even noticed.”

Spock opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Conversing with Kirk was genrally exhausting. “As your exploits among your fellow cadets are now common knowledge, I would think the answer obvious.”

The breath Kirk exhaled moved more forcefully through his nose compared to the humored sighs that often left Kirk’s lips after Spock questioned one of his flirtatious comments. This particular sigh must describe a different emotion. “Forget the others, Spock. I’m interested in what you think.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow and answered stiffly. “What I think of what?”

“Of me.” Kirk fluttered his hands in the air, missing Spock’s nose by 3 millimeters.

Spock watched Kirk for any further displays of emotion that could provide intelligence on the cadet’s meaning. He held Spock’s gaze for an uncomfortable six seconds, an uncommon intensity and stillness in Kirk’s figure. Although the shade was similar to that of Earth oceans, Spock observed Kirk’s eyes to be a variant of blue he had never seen before. An illogical thought passed through Spock’s thoughts—what a pleasing contrast Kirk’s eyes would make against the red sands of Vulcan. At the same moment, Kirk’s gaze shifted to the right, a faint tinge staining his cheeks. Red and blue. 

‘ _No_.’ Spock expelled the shadow of emotion suddenly shading his thoughts.

“According to your academic record, you have received honours in advanced combat training, and by the structure of your figure and endurance you showed during Captain Pike’s rescue simulation, this proves you are physically stable and would serve well in a bodily demanding capacity such as security. Professor Horowitz stated, using an unnecessary excess of adjectives, you are, and I quote, ‘a genius in computer programming.’ Captain Pike has often commented on your tactical skills and unusual yet effective methods of reasoning. However, you have difficulty with delegating, and separating your emotions from the tasks you are given. Your actions during the rescue simulation displayed this.” 

“You’ve looked at my records?” Kirk raised his gaze back to Spock, his eyes widening—a sign of surprise. The tinge on his cheeks darkened. It was not the fact Spock expected Kirk to focus on, but rather the beneficial analyzation of his traits. The cadet would do well to improve his listening skills and to reign in his emotions if he wished to impress the admiralty enough to acquire a captaincy one day. 

“I read the records of all cadets enrolled in my classes and those registered in the xenolinguistics club.”

“Oh.” Kirk’s eyes moved down then up, to the side, an abnormal, almost startling sign of disturbance. “That’s very thorough of you.”

“Knowing my students strengths and weaknesses assists in my teaching methods and informs me when individual focus is required.”

“And I could do with some individual focus?” Kirk smirked, an expression Spock found untrustworthy, as if the cadet used it to distract others from, rather than highlight, his true emotional state. 

“In aspects of your personality I previously described, yes. However, your focus is not communications. As you know, I am a xenolinguistics instructor. You would find better instruction from your tactical and command professors.”

“I don’t know,” Kirk murmured. “You seem pretty commanding to me. Sure you don’t wanna ditch the science station for the captain’s chair?”

“I have no interest in command.”

“Starfleet’s loss.” Kirk moved a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin there. “I mean, you’re already an excellent science officer, from what I’ve heard Pike say. He thinks you’re pretty awesome, you know. And Uhura’s always going on about all the stuff you know. And from what I can tell, from our occasional talks, and seeing you at the club, and sitting in on your classes you’re a really smart guy. Obviously.” Kirk was moving from foot to foot now, his hands flying about as he talked. Spock’s eyes followed their movements. “And, I think you’re pretty great.” Kirk cleared his throat, his pupils darting about as much as his hands. “So, I bet you’d make an amazing captain, too. Or be perfect at anything you set your mind to.”

Spock lifted both his eyebrows. Anyone with weaker concentration would have had trouble following Kirk’s blathering adulation. Most peculiar. Was he attempting to flatter Spock into revealing information about the Kobayashi Maru? Did he really believe such deception would work on a Vulcan? Kirk was occasionally oblivious, but not stupid.

“Your observations are exaggerated beyond logic. There are skills that are beyond my nature to master.”

Kirk perked up. “Oh? Like what?” 

This conversation had gone on longer than Spock felt comfortable with. It was unlike him to participate in such illogical small talk without purpose. Spock wished to step away, turn his back and hasten from Kirk in as quick a stride he could manage that would not appear insulting or possibly frantic. However, he remained stationary.

“Come on, Spock! You already know what I suck at. It’s only fair you share.”

“You are a Starfleet cadet. You have no need for further information about skills unrelated to my position.”

Kirk’s confident grin had returned. “Just because I don’t need it, doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” His eyebrows did an unattractive up and down motion.

Spock blinked. “As you have displayed unwavering persistence in the past, and seem unable to curb your invasive curiosity, I will tell you, even though the knowledge is of no logical use to you, nor would it prove useful for me to provide it.”

“Spit it out, Spock.” Kirk was shaking with barely repressed laughter. Indeed, the effort he was making at control was unusual. Control was not in Kirk’s nature.

“Spit? Is this a human ritual that is required when providing facts on one’s personal skills?”

Kirk’s control had failed. “No, Spock.” He paused to laugh. “Another saying to add to the list. It means to hurry up and tell me what I want to hear.”

“I see. A most unappealing phrase.” Spock paused, resting his hands behind his back. “I cannot dance.”

Kirk’s grin widened. His lips possessed an uncanny flexibility. “Dance! Well, maybe you just haven’t had the right teacher.”

“Vulcan’s do not dance. It is not in my nature to perform such an activity.”

“How do you know you can’t, then?” Kirk asked.

Spock hesitated. He was sharing more information than he had intended to impart. “My mother tried to teach me when I was a child.”

Kirk’s eyebrows lifted. “Your mother? So, there you go. At least one Vulcan dances.”

It was illogical to continue this conversation, however to abandon it would be discourteous. “Negative,” Spock replied. “My mother is human.”

“You’re half human?” Kirk’s voice echoed through the courtyard. Several cadets passing by turned their heads to stare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“As I have already noted, such information, similar to much of the facts shared during this conversation, is unnecessary and provides no purpose.”

“Hardly! It’s called getting to know each other, Spock.”

“Getting to know each other is pointless.”

“Spock.” Kirk’s lips fell past their neutral position. “You wound me.”

Spock felt a momentary pang of regret, yet easily pushed it aside. “I did not mean to injure, in fact, I do not understand how I could have as I have not touched you.”

“I thought we were becoming friends, Spock?” Kirk’s lips puckered into a pout. “Wanting to get to know each other is part of that. It’s ‘necessary’ to build a relationship.”

“Relationships between instructors and cadets beyond the professional are unnecessary.” 

“Just because it’s unnecessary doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be friends,” Kirk replied.

“Vulcans are not a social species,” Spock countered.

“Yeah, but you’re half human.” Kirk smiled. Although Spock felt minor irritation at Kirk’s intrusiveness, he found the man’s conversation disturbingly compelling. He should want it to end, but did not.

“Hey, Spock?” Despite the sudden weakness in his voice, Kirk’s gaze had strengthened. If the cadet ever earned a captaincy, his eyes would prove useful for persuasion—at least to those serving under him who belonged to species moved by such physicality.

“Cadet.” Spock wondered if he was suffering a sudden paralysis. He was standing too close to Kirk. It was unwise, yet he was currently unable to remedy it.

“Do you like Italian food?” Kirk suddenly asked.

Spock blinked. “I do not know.” When would he be released from this illogical conversation?

“How about we get a start on those human lessons I promised? I’ll take you out for dinner at this great Italian place I know. Get to try some new food and learn some new stuff about us illogical humans for your research paper. I could even help you with your dancing problem.” Kirk grinned. “Hey, you could write about dancing. There’s a whole load of human stuff tied up in that, especially in the romantic arena”

“Being unable to dance is not a problem,” Spock retorted.

“Tell that to me when you‘re dating a human girl and she pulls you onto the dance floor.”

“I have no desire to ‘date’ human girls,” Spock frowned.

“Okay, human guys, then.”

“I will not be dating human males either. Your speech is becoming increasingly illogical.”

Kirk chuckled, patting Spock’s arm. He glared at Kirk, and the cadet flushed, moving his arm to the back of his neck again. “Well, dancing or no dancing, there are other human peculiarities I can tell you all about. I know how curious you are about this stuff.” Kirk shifted in place. “Come on, think about all that knowledge you don’t know that you could know after a night of me talking your ear off. Let me take you out in the name of science.”

“You are most peculiar, Cadet Kirk.” Spock continued to watch Kirk, as if staring at him long enough would help translate the confusion and unknowns in Kirk’s speech and actions. “Yet, you speak truth. Your insight could prove valuable to my research.”

“Great!” Kirk clapped his hands. “How about this Saturday at 19:00? I’ll come pick you up. And no, not literally,” he remarked at Spock’s lifted eyebrow. “I mean, I’ll drive over and get you.” He pulled his communicator from his pocket and handed it to Spock. “Here, enter your address.”

“Very well.” Spock took the communicator from Kirk, careful not to graze his hands, entered the requested information and handed it back. 

“Great. Cool. Thanks.” Kirk fidgeted with his communicator. “I’m already looking forward to it. We’ll have fun, I promise.” Kirk smiled at him, a softer look this time that made the skin at the edges of his eyes crinkle.

“Fun is unnecessary,” Spock replied. Now that Spock had accepted Kirk’s invitation, Spock hoped he would be free from the cadet’s presence soon. Spock had experienced more emotions during the 15.6 minutes they had conversed than he had in the past month as a whole. Spock wished to return to his quarters before his next class for some silence and meditation.

“Sure, sure, you keep telling yourself that.” Kirk pressed his hand to Spock’s arm again, briefly. The brevity did not lessen the impact it had upon Spock’s already floundering mental shields. “I’ll get out of your way. For now.” A single blink of Kirk’s right eye. “See you Saturday.”

Spock nodded. With another smile that made Spock’s stomach feel slightly queasy, Kirk turned and left. Spock watched Kirk’s back a moment longer than necessary and then retreated, his leg muscles once again functional.

*


	2. Hypothesis

As Kirk drove up to the curve Saturday night at 18:57, straddling a hover bike, Spock began to question the logic of agreeing to Kirk’s invitation.

Kirk turned off the ignition and removed himself from the vehicle, striding up to Spock where he waited outside his apartment building.

“Hey, Spock.” Kirk’s eyes moved in a southerly direction from Spock’s head to his toes. “Great outfit.” Spock looked down at himself. He was wearing his academy blacks.

“It was the uniform assigned to me by the academy. It is satisfactory.” Spock briefly wondered if he should have changed before his meeting with Kirk since the cadet was no longer in his uniform, instead informally dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a button up shirt. Ignorant of normal procedures for attire when meeting human males who professed to be one’s friend despite one’s protestations against the validity of this fact, Spock had remained in his uniform believing it to be the safest choice. 

“It’s more than satisfactory. Always thought it suited you—fits good. No wonder you wear it all the time.”

“It is comfortable.” Perhaps Spock had made the correct wardrobe choice, after all.

“Ready to go? I brought an extra helmet, so you can ride behind me.” Kirk held up the aforementioned helmet toward Spock.

Spock stared at the helmet, then into Kirk’s face for any traces of human humor. “The length of the vehicle you arrived on is not conducive for multiple occupants.”

“What? Of course it is.” Kirk gave him a wide mouthed grin. “Don’t worry, I might not look it but I’m a safe driver. I even got Bones on the back once and he stopped complaining once I started driving and he realized it wasn’t so dangerous.” Kirk tapped the helmet against Spock’s chest. “Come on, I’ll show you.” Kirk turned and headed back to his bike, Spock trailing behind him.

“I do not understand why you would be carrying bones on the back of your vehicle or why you believe bones would have the similar weight and breadth as an adult Vulcan and therefore require similar safety measures.” Spock frowned. “Were they bones of a fully formed humanoid?”

Kirk laughed, swiping a hand through the air. “No, no! I’ve got you mixed up again. Bones is a friend. A human friend. His actual name is Leonard, but I call him Bones.”

“Why would you call a friend a name that is not his own. This is highly illogical.”

Kirk shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess nicknames are a form of affection—calling someone close to you a name that you created. Kind of like an endearment.”

“This is a strange custom.”

“It sure is,” Kirk said cheerfully. Turning toward Spock, the cadet placed the helmet on Spock’s head, tightening the straps before he had time to protest, which Spock ultimately would have, given the time. Now, with Kirk bare inches from his body, Kirk’s eyes too bright, and his smile too big, Spock’s protests died on his tongue.

“There, all set.” Kirk stared Spock in the eye for 1.2 seconds, before stepping away to the bike and throwing a leg over it. “Jump on.”

Spock remained still. “I do not jump.”

Kirk rolled his eyes, an exaggerated motion Spock had often seen his students perform after being assigning projects with a high level of difficulty. “Step on, then. Like I just did.”

Spock remained still. “There is an aircar stop 5.7 metres to the east. I would prefer a larger mode of transportation.”

Kirk gave Spock a serious look, one Spock had never seen in Kirk’s arsenal of facial expressions. “I’m here to give you a taste of the human experience, right? Well this is part of it.” He patted the seat directly behind him. “Get on, Spock. I wouldn’t dare take you for a ride on this thing if I didn’t know I could get you home safely.”

Spock watched Kirk for a moment. “You cannot predict unforeseen circumstances.” Despite his wariness, Spock approached the bike anyway. Kirk was correct on this occasion. Spock had deferred to the cadet’s knowledge on human behavior. A true scientist was not exclusive when participating in the activities of his current study. Spock tentatively placed a leg over the seat, sitting behind the cadet. Kirk started the engine.

“You’re gonna have to hold on.” Kirk moved his hips slightly from left to right.

Spock kept his hands placed firmly on his thighs. “That would not be wise.”

“Tough. Humans do a lot of stupid shit, and this is nothing compared to some things I’ve done.” Kirk looked over his shoulder to flash Spock a grin. “Hold on.” Before Spock could argue, Kirk accelerated, moving the bike out onto the street. The sudden movement startled Spock, and he grabbed Kirk’s waist to steady himself on the narrow seat.

“See!” Kirk yelled. “Not so difficult, was it?”

Spock did not respond. Now that his fingers had latched onto Kirk, the movement of the vehicle, and some feeling pushing against Spock’s mental shields, prevented him from loosening his grip. The heat from Kirk’s skin seeped through the fabric of his shirt, warming Spock’s hands. The sensation was not altogether unpleasant since the night was cooler than Spock was comfortable with. As Kirk maneuvered the bike to their eventual destination, Spock noticed himself leaning closer to Kirk’s body heat, the wind blowing in his face and the comforting warmth of Kirk’s back making an unsettling contrast. 

Spock was relieved when Kirk pulled up in front of the restaurant and parked his bike. Twenty seven seconds passed as they sat in silence, the lights glowing through the restaurant windows enhancing the gold highlights in Kirk’s hair

Kirk half turned his head. “You can let go now, Spock.”

“Ah. Yes.” Spock replied, loosening his grip and releasing the cadet. His fingers, despite being warmed by Kirk’s body heat, felt numb.

Spock removed himself from the bike, his legs slightly cramped from their tight hold against the seat. Once on the ground, he straightened, watching Kirk remove himself from the vehicle and knock the kickstand into place. He faced Spock, with his customary smile. “So, not so terrifying?”

Spock straightened his shirt and folded his hands behind his back. “I commend you for keeping the hover bike stable during the duration of the trip and for not involving us in a motor vehicle accident. I am, as humans say, ‘still in one piece.’”

Spock derived an illogical pleasure in the smile his attempts at human lingo always initiated on Kirk’s face. “Well, since you enjoyed the ride I’ll have to take you out again.” Kirk touched Spock’s elbow for half a second. “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

Spock chose not to remark on the hyperbolic statement, instead following Kirk silently into the restaurant. Once they were seated by their overly friendly waitress, Spock opened his menu, wondering if Kirk had the sensitivity to research Vulcan dietary habits before choosing this restaurant. 

“They have loads of vegetarian options,” Kirk announced as if he had read Spock’s thoughts. “I’ve been here a few times with Bones and Gaila. The food is always great.” Spock noted Kirk’s menu remained closed on the table where the waitress had left it.

“I am unfamiliar with cuisine from the Italian region.” Spock closed his menu, placing it down beside Kirk’s. “I will once again defer to your expertise on this matter and ask you to recommend a vegetarian dish I may find appetizing.”

Kirk straightened from his slouch slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “You’ll let me order for you?”

“That is what I requested.”

“Cool. Sure.” Kirk tapped a finger on the table, thinking. “Last time I made the mistake of taking Bones out for dinner, I had the basil pesto pasta, so he’d shut up about my calorie count. It was so good, it made me rethink vegetarian food. You can have that and I’ll get one of their other veggie dishes, so we can share.” He lifted a hand to get the waitress’s attention. It was not Vulcan custom to share food and considered unhygienic. However, Spock was here to learn about human customs. He would endure the ritual.

Kirk ordered the basil pesto for Spock, and a feta cheese and olive pizza for himself. Apparently the pizzas at this establishment ‘were out of this world,’ and Kirk ‘couldn’t wait for Spock to try it, had Spock ever had pizza before?’ Spock learned that the pizza was not actually prepared off world, that ‘out of this world’ was a human colloquial statement for describing items that are deemed extraordinary in some way. Spock responded, that no, he had never tried pizza before and this initiated a lecture from Kirk about his admiration for the food item. Spock was not surprised Kirk’s friend, the aforementioned Bones, was concerned about Kirk’s caloric intake if the cadet placed such obsessive worth in food beyond its nutritional value.

After their discussion about cuisine, which began with Spock asking about different human dietary habits—this obsession with the sensation of taste, opposite to Vulcan’s purely nutritional interest in food, could be a possible subject for his paper—led to Kirk querying Spock about Vulcan cuisine. 

“What’s your favorite food?” Kirk asked.

Spock did not have a favorite food, but often partook of plomeek soup. This remark preceded further questions about the soup’s ingredients. Although Spock doubted the Vulcan soup would appeal to human tastes, Kirk insisted on trying it, mentioning a restaurant Gaila had told him about that served dishes popular on other planets. He would check their menu, see if they made Plomeek soup. They could go there for their next ‘human lesson.’

Kirk placed his palms on the table with a slap. “So! Anything specific you wanna know about humans?” The waitress arrived with the bottle of wine Kirk had ordered, filling their glasses. Usually, Spock refused to drink alcohol. The substance did not have the same effect on Vulcan physiology as it did on humans. However, Kirk had insisted he ‘just try it, anyway.’ Spock was here to learn, so he would indeed try. 

Spock took a tentative sip of the liquid. It was bitter with a sweet undertone, not entirely unpleasant. “Do all humans place value on acquiring as many friendships and romantic interests as possible?” Spock questioned, returning the glass to the table. “You do not possess an eidetic memory as Vulcans do. Does this not cause scheduling problems when meeting friends for social activities?” 

Kirk appeared surprised. “Wait, what?”

Spock continued. “You have introduced me to many humanoids you claim to be your friends. You have also insisted that we are friends despite my protestations. I have also seen you engage in comments of a sexual nature with several individuals, often simultaneously.” 

Kirk cleared his throat, glanced to the side and then turned back to Spock, folding his hands together. He shifted in his seat. Stillness was not one of Kirk’s virtues. “I guess I’m what you’d call a people person,” Kirk answered.

“That is not what I called you. Should I be calling you a people person?”

“Stop sassing me, Spock.” Kirk grinned.

“I am doing no such thing. Please continue.”

Kirk tapped a finger to his lips before refolding his hands. “I’m social. I feel more comfortable when I’m around other people, even if they don’t want me around. But no, not all humans are like that. Some people are more social than others.”

Spock considered this. “All of your acquaintances I have met seemed content in your presence.” Except perhaps Uhura who often rolled her eyes, or directed irritated facial expressions at Kirk when he was being especially uninhibited in his speech during club meetings. She did, however, laugh at approximately seventy percent of his humorous comments. This likely displayed a measure of affection toward Kirk. 

Kirk grimaced. “Oh, yeah? Wait till you meet, Bones. He’s always telling me to get out of his face, but he’s a good guy. He just likes being alone in quiet spaces.” Spock was beginning to think this ‘Bones’ was a more logical human than most. “And what about you, Spock?” Kirk asked. “Are you content in my presence?”

“At the moment.”

Kirk picked up his wine glass. “Generous of you.”

“You did not give me significant information regarding your profusion of sexual partners.”

Kirk choked on the wine he had just swallowed. He required a few moments to clear his throat before recommencing their conversation, assuring Spock he did not require any medical assistance. “Always so blunt. Not one for dancing around the subject, are you?”

“As I stated three days ago, I do not dance.”

“Figure of speech. It means, you say what you mean.”

Spock frowned. “Why would I not say what I mean? Vulcans do not lie.”

Kirk shook his head. “I know, I know, you’ve told me that, too. But humans do, or a lot of them do. Say what they don’t mean. Lie.”

“Yes, I have observed this,” Spock answered. “Are you changing the subject of our conversation to avoid a topic you do not wish to discuss—that of your sexual relations?”

“God, Spock! No!” Kirk ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe a bit.” He hesitated, the skin between his eyebrows creased. “I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Pretty sure I’m not getting as much action as you think I am.”

“I assume you are speaking in metaphors again regarding a stick we do not have. And, that by ‘action,’ you mean acts of a sexual nature.”

Kirk took an undisturbed sip of his wine. “You’re getting really good at deciphering human speech.”

Watching Kirk, Spock waited.

Kirk sighed circling a finger around the perimeter of his wine glass. “I flirt, sure—you know what flirting is, right?” Spock nodded once. “But most of the time it doesn’t go anywhere, and I don’t really expect it to. It’s just a game. No one really takes it seriously.”

“What about Cadet Vro? I had assumed you two were involved in a romantic relationship.”

“Ah, Gaila.” Kirk looked down at the table. “I really like her, but she’s not interested in anything serious. I was one of many—a friend’s with benefits sort of deal.”

“I see.” Spock chose not to analyze his feelings at this revelation. “And these benefits are sexual in nature.”

“Uh huh.”

“That does not bother you?” Although Spock knew humans did not always remain with the same mate for life, it seemed the norm among a majority of humans to be with a single partner at a time. This was not the case for Orions.

Kirk shrugged. “I can’t, and don’t, want to force her into being anything she’s not. But I couldn’t say no to her. Can you blame me? A smart gorgeous girl like that—something is better than nothing.” Kirk grinned pleasantly. Spock frowned. “Anyway, we ended the thing last week. Still friends, but no more benefits.”

Spock’s brows raised back into their image of neutrality. “You are not romantically involved with any other at this time, then?”

“Nope.” The waitress had returned with their meals. She placed Kirk’s pizza in front of him, a round, flat bread-like substance covered in red sauce and what Spock assumed were cheese and olives. The basil pesto dish had an enticing aroma, wheat noodles being the main ingredient.

“This smells so good. Thanks,” he nodded and smiled to the waitress. “Well,” he looked back at Spock. “Bon appetite!”

“You speak French?” Spock was momentarily impressed.

“No,” Kirk chuckled. “You can wipe that impressed look off your face.” Spock was certain no such expression had appeared on his face. “But everyone knows bon appetite.” Ignoring his utensils, Kirk grabbed a slice of the pizza with his fingers and took a bite. Spock blinked. 

“You eat with your hands?”

“Mmhff,” Kirk mumbled through the food in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, a dot of sauce lingering on his lips which he cleaned off with a swipe of his tongue. “Pizza is meant to be eaten with your hands.” He finished the rest of the slice in two large bites, licking the remnants from his fingers. Spock looked away.

“Mmm, so good. Here wanna try some?” Spock glanced back to see another slice of the pizza looming in his face where Kirk was holding it in front of him. Kirk shook the slice slightly. “Do it for science!”

Spock’s eyes narrowed. “Is it customary to share food among humans?”

“Oh yeah, sure. It’s part of the fun.” Kirk shook the pizza again. “Take a bite.”

For the first time, Spock was compelled to partake in a human sigh. However, he restrained himself. “Very well.” Kirk had ordered the vegetarian dish for himself so Spock could also taste it. It would be rude to refuse. Spock bit off the tip of the pizza slice and chewed.

Kirk’s eye’s widened. “Like it?”

“It is quite flavourful.”

“I know, right? They sure know how to do pizza here. Try your pasta.” Kirk pushed the plate forward two millimeters. “Don’t worry, you can use your fork for that unless you wanna make a huge mess.”

“A huge mess would not be desirable.” Spock scooped his fork into his dish, yet the utensil was not suited to the task, as the long thin wheat products slipped back into the bowl.

Kirk was watching him with a grin. “It’s easier to eat pasta if you twirl your fork around the noodles. Like this.” Kirk picked up his unused fork, speared it into the noodles, and moved it in a circular motion. When he removed the fork, the noodles remained wrapped around the utensil. Kirk placed the fork in front of Spock’s lips. “Say ahh!”

This time, a barely discernible puff of air escaped Spock’s nostrils. His control was already slipping. “I am capable of feeding myself.” Spock moved his head slightly to the right.

Kirk moved the fork to follow Spock’s movements. “I know. No need to get all touchy.” Spock was feeling anything but touchy. “But, I already have food on my fork, in my hand, placed so conveniently in front of your mouth. It’d be illogical for you not to eat it.”

Spock glared at Kirk. “You are most persistent.”

“Yup. Persistent is my middle name.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. Kirk’s middle name was not Persistent, but Tiberius. Spock had read it on the cadet’s file. “Very well.” Spock took the fork into his mouth, removing the noodles. He chewed and swallowed. Kirk had made another edible choice—the pasta tasted satisfactory. Spock moved his fork back into the bowl and mimicked Kirk’s motions. “However, I require no further assistance with my meal.” 

Kirk seemed content to watch Spock eat, resting his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table while Spock finished his pasta. “Should I offer you a portion of my meal, as you did?” Spock asked.

“Hmm?” Kirk smiled at him. “Oh. Only if you want to. As I said, I’ve already tried it.”

Spock reminded himself he was participating in a human ritual for, as Kirk had aptly stated, ‘science.’ He held a forkful of pasta up for Kirk. “Say, ahh.” He repeated in his usual monotone. 

Kirk stared at Spock for a moment, his smile turning into a round O shaped pursing of his lips that transformed into a grin in a matter of seconds. Spock watched, mesmerized, as Kirk’s lips parted and moved to surround the fork, feeling the slight tug as Kirk moved the pasta off with his tongue in an astutely reduced amount of time than would be expected, keeping his eyes latched onto Spock’s during the whole rather obscene episode. Spock blinked and then placed his now empty fork back on the table. He required no further sustenance.

Kirk chewed on another slice of pizza. “Haven’t eaten much human food, have you?”

Spock focused his attention back on Kirk’s words. “Affirmative. Terran cuisine is often not to my taste. However these dishes have proved edible.”

Kirk grinned. “If there’s one thing I know well its food. And San Francisco is full of great restaurants. I’ll take you around, show you the best places.”

“Your offer is… most generous.”

Kirk licked sauce off his thumb. “Like I keep saying, we’re friends. You can ask me more nosey question if you want too. I aim to please.”

“The physiology of the human nose in not the focus of my research.”

According to Kirk, this was another human saying. Spock learned much human phraseology in the course of their meal, including: “rubbing him the wrong way,” which Kirk utilized regarding his aft mentioned friend, Bones; ‘break the ice,’ when Kirk insisted Spock answer a series of inane questions, such as ‘what’s your favourite colour;’ ‘butter him up,’ which Kirk used during another story involving Bones. However, the ‘buttering up’ failed in this particular instance; and ‘cat got your tongue,’ which was used after Kirk brushed a fleck of pasta sauce that was apparently attached to the left edge of Spock’s mouth. Kirk then insisted on familiarizing Spock with a number of human curse words, despite Spock’s disinterest in the matter. It was, over all, the most illuminating evening meal Spock had had in some time.

Spock was introduced to one last saying as they rose to leave the restaurant after paying for their meal. “Okay, Spock, time to bite the bullet,” Kirk announced.

“Clarify.”

“I’m taking you dancing.” Kirk held the door of the restaurant open, waiting for Spock to exit. Spock stilled.

“I must decline.

“No, you can’t! It’s for science.”

“You cannot use that excuse every time you mean to coerce me into acts I do not wish to participate in.”

Kirk visibly slouched. He would establish a back problem if he continued using such damaging posture. “Pretty, please?” Kirk’s voice had taken on a deeper tenor, his smile possessing a deviousness Spock found especially alarming. “Come on, you’re a curious guy, Spock. You like learning new things. Seriously, dancing is part of the human experience.” 

Spock ignored him and walked through the open door, continuing to where Kirk’s hover bike was parked. The cadet followed. “You were really interested in the whole human relationships thing over dinner. Write your paper on romance. I bet your Vulcan friends would get a kick out of that. And, like I’ve said, dancing can play a part in human courtship.” Kirk tapped Spock on the shoulder. “I guarantee you’ll see some major romantic action at the club I’m gonna take you to. Some real face to face research material.”

Spock paused and turned, watching Kirk warily. “You speak truthfully? This is not another one of your ploys to force me into participating in human activities for your own amusement? ”

Kirk took a breath. “Yeah, of course.” He paused. “Well, it gives me a good excuse to spend more time with you, as well. But yeah, you’ll get some good research material at the club.” 

Spock admitted to himself that this establishment did sound fascinating and could prove useful to his research if Kirk was not employing one of his frequently used hyperbolic statements. And, despite being occasionally overwhelming, Kirk’s company was not unpleasant, perhaps even stimulating. “Very well,” Spock yielded. “I will accompany you. However, I will not participate in the dancing.”

Kirk brightened. “Okay sure, whatever you say.” With a grin he hopped onto his hover bike, gesturing for Spock to take his place behind him. Kirk started the engine, and Spock was once again compelled to grip Kirk’s waist as they drove off.

*

The establishment Kirk brought Spock to was noisy and crowded. Kirk had claimed two seats at the bar after a human couple departed for the dance floor. After pushing his chair as far back against the bar as it would go, Spock found himself leaning toward Kirk to distance himself from the Orion who persisted on pressing half of her body against Spock’s as she lounged against the bar. 

“Hey, he’s with me. Hands off.” Kirk addressed the Orion, directing a glare at her Spock assumed was meant to be intimidating. The Orion shrugged, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and wandered to the other end of the bar where a human male seemed more appreciative of her close proximity.

Kirk handed Spock a drink. “Free of chocolate and sucrose. Just like you asked.”

Spock sniffed the drink. “Thank you.” He took a small sip.

“I like how you treat everything I give you as if I’m trying to poison you.” Kirk took a deep swallow from the tall glass in his hand which was filled with a brown foamed liquid.

“I do not think you are trying to poison me. I am unfamiliar with many human beverages and am therefore unsure if they will have an unfavourable reaction on my digestive system.”

“Are you allergic to sugar, then?” Kirk asked.

“No. However, both cocoa and processed sugars are known to affect Vulcans similar to how alcohol affects humans.” Experiencing no disturbing sensations after the first sip of the drink, Spock indulged in another.

Kirk’s eyes widened. “Remind me to slip you a chocolate bar before the next xenolinguistics club meeting.”

“I will not. Being intoxicated while teaching would not be professional.” Frowning, Spock watched Kirk cough up part of his drink. “You are participating in the human act of ‘teasing.’”

“Yeah, a little,” Kirk chuckled.

“I see.” Spock directed his gaze to the dance floor where a multitude of couples and groups were engaged in erratic movements in time to a fast paced, often discordant, melody. Much physical stimulation was involved, occasionally in intimate areas.

“Wanna try?” Kirk had leaned closer, his breath tickling Spock’s ear.

Spock glanced at Kirk, then away. “I already reiterated my disinterest in dancing.”

“If your boyfriend’s not interested, I’ll spin you around.” A human male had approached and placed himself in the seat on Kirk’s other side. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and not unattractive. The man placed an arm on the cadet’s shoulder. Spock raised an eyebrow. 

Shifting away slightly, Kirk rested his hand on Spock’s knee. Spock flinched. “No, thanks,” Kirk replied. “I’m gonna stick with my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to treat hot stuff like you.” The man edged closer. “Forget him, I’ll show you a good time.”

Spock opened his mouth to debate the truth of this statement. From what he had learned observing humans, Spock believed ‘boyfriend’ was a term with romantic connotations. However, the light shake of his head and focused stare Kirk suddenly expressed, gave Spock pause. Kirk squeezed Spock’s knee, a tickling emotion buzzing though the transference. 

Pressing his lips together, Spock remembered Kirk’s method with the Orion had been quite effective. “He is with me. Hands off,” Spock repeated, attempting to imitate Kirk’s tone and facial expression.

“Oh, yeah?” The man replied, stepping toward Spock. He could smell alcohol on the human’s breath. “Make me.” He wrapped an arm around Kirk’s shoulders.

“Very well.” Standing, Spock grabbed Kirk’s wrist and pulled him up from the chair, out of the man’s weaker grasp, and tugged Kirk toward the dance floor. The man yelled obscenities behind them, but did not follow. 

Kirk was laughing rather hysterically behind him. “Congratulations,” Kirk said in between breathes. “You just survived your first human courtship ritual.”

“It was not difficult.” Spock came to a halt at the perimeter of the dance floor.

“Don’t speak so soon,” Kirk replied, moving to Spock’s front and wrapping his arms around Spock’s shoulders. “Now you gotta finish what you started and dance with me.”

“Is dancing your favourite pastime?” Spock asked, staring down at Kirk. “You are rather fixated on the activity.” 

“Yeah, I like dancing.” Kirk leaned forward. Spock stepped back. “But mostly, I really want to dance with you.” Kirk moved forward again and Spock stepped back.

“If the ease with which you collect friendships is any indication, I am positive you would have no difficulty finding dance partners.” Taking Spock’s arm from where it lay stiffly against his side, Kirk placed it on his hip. “I am clearly unnecessary to your enjoyment of the activity.” Kirk repeated his motions with Spock’s other hand.

“Wrong,” Kirk murmured. “You.” Kirk’s body was three millimeters from Spock’s now. He could feel the brush of Kirk’s jacket again his torso. “Are very necessary.” 

Spock did not reply. Indeed, he was not sure he could form words at this time. He was being bombarded with a rush of unfamiliar sensations and physical contact. All of Spock’s senses felt like they were on red alert.

“You look cute when you blush.” Kirk breathed against Spock’s jawline. The cadet had begun a swaying motion, perhaps a bare two centimeters back and forth. Spock closed his eyes in an attempt to rest at least one of his sensory inputs. The motion was both comforting and stimulating at the same time.

Spock’s fingers tensed against Kirk’s hips. “I do not blush,” Spock replied, barely a whisper. He had a sudden desire to close the remaining distance between them, press his body flush against Kirk’s and give in to the emotions flooding through him. He resisted.

“Say that to the green tinge across your cheeks.” Kirk’s right hand stroked Spock’s shoulder, moving down to his elbow and back up again.

“The reaction upon my skin is likely caused by the colourful lighting used by this establishment.” Spock swallowed. The sound echoed in his ears.

“Uh huh,” Kirk replied, amusement in his tone. 

Spock was unsure how long they remained in this state, his sense of time clouded by all the other impressions clamoring for attention in his brain. Kirk was saying things to him and Spock was replying, shadows of emotions drifting from Kirk through to Spock. He was immensely grateful Kirk had the decency to keep his hands against Spock’s clothing instead of touching bare skin when his dissembled shields could do little to stop a clear transference. The idea of knowing Kirk’s thoughts so intimately disturbed Spock. 

The rushing sound in Spock’s ears suddenly quieted and he opened his eyes. The music had ended and Kirk had stepped away, increasing their distance by 5.9 centimeters.

“Thanks for the dance, Spock,” Kirk smiled.

Spock blinked, blood rushing back to his fingers. “You are welcome.”

Kirk brushed a hand against Spock’s elbow. “Come on, I’ll buy you another drink and we can observe some more research subjects.”

“Yes,” Spock replied, simply, following Kirk. His legs were feeling slightly unstable. A chance to sit again would be beneficial.

*

Kirk’s ‘human lessons’ continued over the next thirteen days in the form of outings and conversation. The file Spock kept on his PADD with research notes was at 1.3 MB. Despite their invasive nature, Kirk willingly answered Spock’s questions and seemed keen to discuss anything related to human romance, often initiating the topic for discussion or providing Spock with ideas for his paper. Spock found Kirk to be an engaging conversationalist, his previous prejudice about the flippant cadet now replaced with admiration. He found himself seeking out Kirk’s company more frequently and objecting less to Kirk’s constant proximity. 

Their conversations were not exclusively focused on Spock’s research but often diverged, at first on Kirk’s prompting only, but, after a time, also encouraged by Spock. They discussed space travel and starship tactics, Kirk’s multitude of classes, the difference between human and Vulcan cuisine, linguistics, hover bike mechanics—Kirk had offered to teach Spock how to ride, Spock had declined—and a multitude of other topics. When Kirk discovered that Spock played chess, the two played five games together, three of which Spock won, two of which, to Spock’s surprise, he lost.

After Spock again brought up Kirk’s decisions during Pike’s rescue simulation, the two spent the next thirty eight minutes arguing amicably about the ethical ramifications of the cadet’s judgments, Kirk adamant that taking risks for the chance of saving crew members was the obvious decision, while Spock debated Kirk’s logic. By the end of the debate, Spock was impressed with Kirk’s passion, but still wary of his impulsiveness, often triggered by human emotions. Although he wondered if some of his retorts, though rational, would cause Kirk offense, the cadet’s usual grin was spread across his face after they both ‘agreed to disagree.’ The next day, Kirk was just as eager to literally drag Spock with him to lunch in between classes and discuss a more difficult aspect of the cadet’s latest tactical class.

Kirk had blatantly brought up the Kobayashi Maru four more times and hinted at the topic a fifth time by expressing his interest in simulation programming. Spock had listened to the cadet’s tactical observations on the test, but made no comments of his own, nor answered any of Kirk’s questions. Eventually, Kirk changed the topic.

Unconsciously, Spock had become a willing friend of Jim Kirk’s. He admitted to himself, with some surprise, that this revelation was a positive one.

“Hey.” For once Kirk was first to arrive at the weekly xenolinguistics club meeting. His hair was slightly askew, several pieces sticking in gravity defying directions. His eyes were still filmy with sleep, casting a liquidness to his gaze that heightened the colour of his eyes. 

“Cadet.” Spock felt his lips pull upward. “You are early.”

“Yeah, not late for once. Impressed?” Kirk smiled the smile that Spock preferred. A light tug of the lips that lifted them slightly to the right. It felt private, like it belonged to Spock, even though the idea of owning a smile that was not one’s own was illogical. 

“I am gratified to see you putting in the effort expected of you to attend meetings on time as required and met by all other members of this group.”

“Harsh!” Kirk leaned lazily against one of the tables. “And I woke up half an hour early just so I could impress you for once.”

“Vulcans are not easily impressed, as I know you are aware.” He watched Kirk rub a single eye and then move a hand up through his hair, making the ends stand up more messily than before. “However, you are mistaken. You have impressed me on several occasions.”

Kirk straightened into a less lazy slouch, his eyes opened a few millimeters wider. “Really? Like when?”

Spock moved his hands to parade rest, straightening his spine in contrast to Kirk’s loose posture. “When you first joined this club, I expected nothing extraordinary from you. When you displayed a modicum of intelligence and commitment, I was momentarily impressed.”

Kirk stared at him for precisely one second before bursting into laughter. “So.” He said after catching his breath. “I impressed you by not being as stupid as you thought I was.”

“A generalization of my thoughts of you at the time, but essentially correct.”

“Well, high praise from a Vulcan, I suppose.” Kirk smiled his smile again, and stepped over, holding his arm up, a paper bag clutched in his hand. “Be nice. I brought you breakfast.”

Spock hesitated a moment before taking the bag and opening it. Inside was a breakfast sandwich and croissant—the bag’s logo he recognized from a local café frequented by academy students. “I even remembered to get the vegetarian option.” Kirk winked.

Spock had broken his fast two hours earlier, but he did not feel compelled to reveal this fact. “The sentiment is appreciated, but was unnecessary.”

“Yeah well, I do a lot of unnecessary things, especially for friends. Haven’t picked up on that, yet, smarty pants?”

Spock frowned. “I am not a piece of clothing. Intelligent or otherwise.” 

“Another saying, Spock.” Kirk rubbed Spock’s arm. “Eat your breakfast. The food from Roy’s is the best. Once you try it, you won’t want to eat anything else for breakfast ever again.”

Spock unwrapped the breakfast sandwich and eyed it speculatively. It was not leaking with the usual grease Spock had come to associate with ‘student food.’ Kirk was watching him expectantly. “I will concede to your better judgment on this matter, Cadet.” He took a bite.

Kirk watched him chew, eyes focused on Spock’s mouth. “You know, you should really call me Jim.”

Spock swallowed. The sandwich was appetizing. As in other human topics, Kirk was proving an expert on the matter of Terran cuisine. “It is Starfleet procedure to address one by their rank or surname.” Spock took another bite of his sandwich.

“I know. But, when we’re alone, or outside the academy, you can call me Jim. It’s much more friendly. And I brought you breakfast, so it’s official, we’re friends.”

As he finished the sandwich, Spock watched Kirk. He did not want to call the cadet Jim. It lifted another boundary between them, one of the few that were remaining as Kirk continually stepped past them without thought. Indeed, by accepting the meal Kirk had brought, Spock had likely stepped through one of his own boundaries.

“Come on, Spock. I know you can do it. Calling me by my first name can be part of your human studies. Jim,” Kirk enunciated his name, his full lips fluttering over his teeth. “Jim. It’s easy, one syllable.”

Spock felt powerless again—where was his self-control? Ever since he placed his hands on Kirk’s waist during their first hover bike ride, it had been slowly evaporating like the water in his mother’s garden on Vulcan. He took a single breath. 

“Jim.”

Kirk grinned, and Spock suddenly felt better about abandoning formality. “Thanks, Spock.”

“Thanks are unnecessary.” 

“Don’t care. Saying it anyway. With one simple syllable you’ve made my day.” Spock observed that Kirk was easily pleased. No wonder he was always smiling over unextraordinary matters. “So. Picked a topic for your paper, yet?”

Spock picked up the croissant. “Upon your suggestion, I have chosen to focus my writing on human romantic relationships. The rituals involved are different from those of Vulcan and would therefore be of interest to my colleagues.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Let me know if you need any more intel.” Kirk glanced down at Spock’s hands. “How was the sandwich?”

“Satisfactory.” He eyed the croissant briefly before taking a bite. At that moment, the door opened, and Uhura stepped in, halting when she saw them. Spock swallowed quickly and placed the pastry back in its bag.

“Hey, Uhura!” Kirk greeted her with a small wave.

“You’re early,” she replied.

Kirk snorted. “Yeah, that’s what Spock said. I’m trying to improve my slovenly ways.”

Uhura raised her eyebrows and glanced from Kirk to Spock and then back again. “Good luck with that.”

“Ye of little faith.” Kirk shook his head and took his usual seat. Behind Uhura trailed Vro, and shortly after the rest of the club’s members. Spock picked up Kirk’s breakfast and placed it aside for later consumption.

*

“He’s after you.”

“Excuse me?” Spock turned. Behind him stood Cadet Uhura, hands placed firmly on her hips.

“Kirk. He’s after you,” she repeated.

“After me? I do not comprehend. Are we involved in a race I was not informed of?” Spock was piling his instructional material away in his bag along with the abandoned croissant. The rest of the group had rushed off to their next classes, extracurriculars, or lunch. Before leaving, Kirk had caught Spock’s eye to give him a penetrating smile.

“Okay, I’m going to be blunt. I think Kirk’s using you.”

Spock blinked. He was finding it difficult to formulate a response.

“You have been misinformed,” he managed to reply. “Cadet Kirk has offered to assist me with my study on human social norms and customs for my VSA anthropological paper. If anyone has been making use of anyone, it has been me.”

“He’s doing it to impress you. Trust me. The guy could charm his way out of a paper bag.” Uhura huffed. Spock did not know what paper bags had to do with Cadet Kirk., but noted the phrase away to ask Kirk about it later.

“Has Cadet Kirk told you this?”

Uhura shook her head. “No. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this since I didn’t hear the whole conversation,” she hesitated. “But, I overheard him talking to his friend Leonard about you. Kirk was betting him he could win you over and beat the Kobayashi Maru test.”

Spock attempted to keep his face neutral and ignore the twitch fluttering between his eyebrows. “Perhaps you misunderstood. The cadet and I have spent several evenings in each other’s company discussing matters of human and Vulcan culture, and,” Spock thought it unwise to mention the impromptu dance lesson or the hover bike rides, “various recreational activities, none of which involved me being ‘won over’ as I have come to understand the term.” 

“Are you sure?” Uhura asked, disbelief evident in her tone. “He never tried to drag you to his place, or sneak into yours?”

“Negative.” Spock crossed his arms behind his back.

“Hmm.” Uhura tapped her fingers against a hip. “Has he been bothering you about the Kobayashi Maru test? He’s been obsessing about it to everyone else, even tried to convince Gaila to give him the simulation access codes.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “He has mentioned the test and his determination to pass it. However, I have provided no sensitive information about the simulation.”

Uhura shifted. “No, of course you haven’t. Sorry, Professor,” she grimaced. “I’m probably being overly protective. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Kirk can be pretty charismatic, maybe even to a Vulcan.”

“I appreciate your concern, Cadet. But as I am Vulcan, I am not susceptible to Kirk’s whiles, if he is, as you believe, using them upon me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to prepare for.”

Uhura watched him with a small smile. “Of course, Commander.”

As Spock left the room, he had trouble pushing Uhura’s suspicions from his mind. It was unlike him to admit such a thing, but Spock could not deny he was enjoying his time with Kirk. The cadet was intelligent, and his conversation, however mired in the usual human incomprehensibility, was diverting and, dare he say it, amusing. Kirk seemed unfazed by Spock’s Vulcan reticence, a refreshing change from most of the humans of his acquaintance.

But, if Uhura was correct, and Kirk was forming an attachment to Spock as a means to acquire information about the Kobayashi Maru test—Spock found the thought most unpleasant. In fact, it stirred the hint of an emotion that burned at the back of Spock’s skull.

Kirk had outright asked Spock for information about the test, and when he refused the cadet had laughed it off. He had mentioned the Kobayashi Maru again during other conversations and Spock knew Kirk enjoyed a challenge, was a risk taker, and denied the existence of no-win scenarios. Had Kirk initiating a friendship with Spock, and possibly a slow building courtship, with the intention of ensnaring Spock’s trust in order to gain information on the Kobayashi Maru? 

It seemed a little far-fetched. Despite his nonchalant façade, Kirk was intelligent and devoted to his Starfleet studies. The long hours he spent holed up in the library, sitting in extra classes, joining the xenolinguistics club, and discussing topics on physics, diplomacy and tactics with Spock, proved this. Spock did not want to believe Kirk would cheat his way through a test, even if it ensured him the success he so coveted. Yet, Kirk was a puzzle Spock was slowly putting together. Despite their many interactions, he was far from seeing the whole man.

Spock was suddenly reminded of his conversation with Kirk when the two had gone for their celebratory drink after Pike’s rescue simulation. ‘ _Isn’t doing whatever you can to save your crew the important thing, even if it is unethical?_ ’ Kirk had effused his expression serious, eyes bright with emotion and intoxication after an excessive amount of alcohol.

Spock thought his logic was unshakable. But Kirk, with his easy acceptance and gratifying companionship, his laughing eyes and earnest touch that warmed Spock even when the temperature was below satisfactory for a Vulcan, had slipped through Spock’s barriers and obscured his judgment. Vulcans were not meant to participate in acts of friendship. It might be wise, Spock considered, to distance himself from Kirk, whatever the cadet’s motives were. 

*

“We. Are. Done.”

Spock halted his progress through the academy’s courtyard, recognizing the voice raised in obvious distress. Cadet Vro was engaged in a verbal encounter with a human cadet. This was not the first argument he had observed Gaila involved in in public.

After her human companion departed, an unpleasant expression on his face, Spock approached. “You seem well acquainted with human males.”

Vro started, turned toward Spock, and then frowned, a small quirk on her lips. “Are you about to lecture me, Professor? Because if you are, I have a class to get to.”

“Negative. I wish to,” Spock considered his phrasing, “ask your advice.”

“Oh ho!” Vro raised her brows, forming a rather disconcerting smile. “Having problems with your own human male? What is it, tell me. Not answering your calls? Is he being too withdrawn? Doesn’t bathe enough? Or, he can’t get it up?” She covered her mouth, clearly horrified, Spock was unsure why. “Poor, Professor Spock!”

Vro had clearly misconstrued the specifics of his dilemma. “None of these problems relate to my own.” Spock answered. “I am attempting to distance myself from the human male in question. However, the more frequently I refuse his requests to spend time together, the more often he insists that we do.” Spock had turned down three of Kirk’s offers to ‘hang out’ for breakfast, lunch and dinner last week. In response, Kirk had doubled his requests. Even though Spock had insisted he did not desire a friendship, that he found the social experience too trying for his Vulcan sensibilities, that he found Kirk, himself, too overwhelming, the cadet was not taking no for an answer. Kirk was convinced Spock ‘just needed some more time to warm up to him.’ The comment brought to mind the memory of Kirk’s body heat warming his chilled fingers during their hover bike rides. If anything, Spock needed cooling down.

Vro nodded. “I see, not getting the message, is he?”

“Clearly not.”

“Okay, you’re obviously going about this the wrong way, Professor. He probably thinks you’re playing hard to get.”

“Please clarify.”

“It’s a game humans play when they’re interested in each other. They pretend they’re not attracted to someone when they really are. Human boys love it. It’s like hunting. The prey runs away and the predator chases it down. It must speak to their inner caveman roots.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow. “Fascinating.” Kirk was attempting to hunt him? If this was true, humans were barely evolved beyond pre-Surakian Vulcans. His decision to alleviate himself of Kirk was undoubtedly a wise one. 

“Isn’t it?” Vro’s grin expanded. “Anyway, if you wanna ditch this boy, you have to do the opposite of what you’re doing. Get all clingy, really overdo it. Make declarations of love in public. Leave some of your belongings at his house like you’re marking the space your own. That’ll scare him off real quick.”

“Illogical.”

“It sure is, but nothing works better.” Vro twirled a strand of her hair around a finger. “I’ve used this method on a number of pesky humans I’ve had trouble getting rid of.”

“I see.” Vro’s prescribed method troubled Spock. It was not only illogical, but also deceptive. It went against Spock’s nature, yet the idea fascinated his scientific curiosity. Humans truly were opposite in disposition to Vulcans. This could be an illuminating experiment, one that would enhance his paper on human relationships, as well as performing the necessary duty of defriending Kirk.

“Thank you, Cadet. Your ideas have proven most instructive.”

“Good luck, Professor! You let me know if you need any more advice.” She winked. “Kirk’s tougher than he looks.”

Spock raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. It should not surprise him that an Orion was able to discern the subject of his predicament. Instead, Spock simply nodded his thanks and turned to leave, a title for his paper already forming in his mind. He would submit his proposal to T’Pring tonight.

*


	3. Experiment

_…after consulting experts on the human psyche, I have been informed that Terran males find expressions of love unexpectedly repellant, even from entities they hope to engage in sexual relations…_

 

Spock approached Kirk after the next xenolinguistics meeting, interrupting his conversation with Uhura about the edibility of Klingon _gagh_.

“Jim.” 

Kirk jumped, looking up at Spock warily. Perhaps the sudden use of informality was already working as Vro predicted. “Hey, Spock. You remembered my name, I’m touched.” The grin was back. Spock frowned.

“I wish to speak to you alone, urgently.” He glared at Kirk in what Spock hoped was an intense manner.

“Yeah, sure.” Kirk grabbed his bag. “You’ve escaped this time, Uhura, but you can’t escape me and a nice juicy bowl of _gagh_ forever.”

“Shove it, Kirk,” she called after him as he followed Spock out of the classroom.”

“Hey.” Kirk looked up at him. “I’ve missed you. Been busy writing that paper?”

“Indeed. But now I am available. I wish to _hang out_ with you.” Spock raised the bag he was holding. “I have prepared a traditional Vulcan meal. We can eat it while sitting on the grass in the courtyard.” After interrogating Vro further on human romance, the Orion had suggested Spock accost Kirk with a picnic lunch. Signs of sudden domesticity in a relationship could be off putting to humans only interested in a casual association.

Kirk’s eyes widened. “Wow, Spock. I’m shocked. Didn’t think picnics would be your style. Aren’t they illogical or something?”

Spock hesitated. “Although eating outdoors can be inconvenient, it is not illogical to partake in sustenance when one is hungry, even if the action occurs on plant life that has an eighty six percent chance of being damp.”

“Awesome, no picnic guilt then.” Kirk linked his arm through Spock’s. “Let’s go get our butts damp.”

Spock led Kirk out to the courtyard, Kirk’s easy acceptance and usual willingness to initiate contact was troubling. However, Vro had warned Spock that it may take longer to wear this particular obstinate human down. Spock concurred; Kirk did not want for this particular trait. 

“Allowing our clothes to become damp when it can be prevented would be illogical. I brought a blanket.” Spock set down the container of edibles, unwrapping and flicking open the blanket to rest it on the ground. Kirk watched him, hands resting on his hips.

“You came prepared.”

“I am always prepared. To not be would be illogical.”

“Never spontaneous, never unpredictable.” Kirk ungracefully threw his body down onto the blanket, stretching out on his side, chin propped on his hand. “But that’s okay. I’ll be the one bringing that to this relationship.”

Spock frowned. “I do not approve of spontaneity. Unpredictable actions lead to unpredictable consequences.” 

Kirk grinned at him predatorily, teeth flashing. Evidently, antagonizing instead of complementing was causing the reverse affect Spock required. He noted the fact away to use as proof for his paper’s thesis. “However,” Spock countered intent of remedying his previous folly. “Spontaneity can have positive strategic results when used in particular circumstances, which you have demonstrated… many times.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Spock.” Kirk had rolled over onto his back, arms placed behind his head. “Did you finally realize my bravery during the rescue sim wasn’t so stupid, after all?”

“I am,” Spock clenched his fists, “beginning to see the benefits of your…” Flattery, Spock realized, was not easy. “Actions.” 

Though it was not a lie, Spock reminded himself, he had omitted much of the truth. 

“You’re different today.” Kirk sat up, peering at Spock speculatively. “Speaking of different, what did you make me?” He rubbed his hands together.

Blinking away the image of Kirk’s hands chafing against one other, Spock revealed the containers of food. “I have brought plomeek soup, kreyla, which has a similar texture as human bread, and a salad using ingredients native to Vulcan.” 

Kirk took the container of soup Spock handed him, opened the top and inhaled deeply. “Your favorite food.”

“You conveyed an interest in ‘my favourite foods.’ Although they cannot be favourites as Vulcan’s do not express favoritism, these dishes could be described as being the most edifying to my palate.” Spock arranged the dishes between them.

“Are you sure, Spock? No favoritism at all, to anything?” He shifted five inches closer to where Spock knelt. “Or, more importantly--anyone?”

“Affirmative.” Spock placed two sets of cutlery on the blanket. 

Kirk poked him in the chest and Spock looked up from his arrangement. “Have you ever made any one a picnic before?” Kirk asked, lowering his eyelashes.

Spock blinked. “Negative.” Kirk blinked back. Upon further analysis, Spock realized this would be an advantageous time to proceed to the ‘lay the love on thick’ step of his experiment.

“I made an error in my previous statement on favoritism.” Spock steadied himself for a most unnaturally Vulcan declaration, one, however, that would be made for science. “I do favour one particular human.” Spock stared at Kirk, unblinking. “You, Jim.”

Kirk was watching Spock, his mouth a gape. “Wow. That… well that was easier than I expected.” He smiled, one that reached his eyes making them uncomfortably bright. Spock forced himself not to look away. “So, Vulcans don’t lie, right?” 

“They do not.” Spock gripped his chopstick, moving it between his fingers. _Vulcans do not lie_. He repeated the phrase in his head. No, it was not a lie. Spock did prefer Jim to other humans. That was his problem.

Kirk rested a hand on Spock’s knee briefly. These sudden touches, lasting only seconds, were never enough to break Spock’s mental shields, but enough to light a bright spark of feeling in the back of his mind. He wondered if Kirk knew what he was doing, if these grazes against Spock’s knees, his arms, his back, were a part of Kirk’s seduction techniques. 

“Well, Spock. You’re my favourite Vulcan,” Kirk replied.

Spock let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. “There is a ninety one percent probability that I am the only Vulcan you are acquainted with.”

Kirk huffed. “It doesn’t matter. You’d still be my favourite Vulcan even if I knew every single Vulcan alive.” He took a sip of his soup, slurping loudly.

“Illogical. You would not know the truth of this unless you had indeed met every Vulcan alive.” He watched Kirk take a bit of the kreyla, using his hands to eat it as no Vulcan ever would.

“Some things you just know,” Kirk spoke around a mouth full of food. “And this I do.” He swallowed. “You know, I heard Vulcan food was pretty bland, but this stuff is good.” He filled his mouth again.

“Your illogical statements once again confound me; however I am gratified you find the food palatable.” He took a sip from his own bowl of plomeek before continuing. “I made slight modifications based on my mother’s recipes. As a human, she added what she deemed, ‘improvements,’ to common Vulcan dishes that she found bland compared to her native dishes.”

“Let her know I’m a big fan of her improvements.” Kirk finished off the rest of his soup by tipping his head back and emptying the remaining contents into his mouth. A pink tongue peeked out between his lips to gather the remaining liquid left on his lips. “So, does that whole, ‘you’re my favorite human,’ out of the blue comment mean you’re into me.”

“I am not in you, Jim, but obviously outside you.”

Kirk started at him, or rather through him, his eyes slightly glazed. “Don’t put thoughts like that in my head, Spock.”

“Clarify.”

“Yeah, no. Bad idea.” Kirk shook his head roughly. “Never mind that, don’t be coy, I’ve given you enough human slang lessons by now, you gotta know what I’m talking about.”

Kirk had given Spock an opportunity to make the declaration of love Vro had recommended. Taking a measured breath, Spock considered the cadet for a moment. 

“I am fond of you, Jim,” Spock murmured. Although he had already expressed more terms of affection than he was comfortable with in a single conversation, he knew this would not be enough to establish a flight response in the human. “I also find you aesthetically pleasing. I wish…” Spock paused to take another steadying breath. “To embark on a romantic relationship with you.”

“Jackpot!” Kirk raised a fist in the air and Spock was momentarily startled by the aggressive movement. “I thought I’d have to drag a confession out of you kicking and screaming. You’re more unpredictable than you think, Spock.” More swiftly than Spock could count the seconds, Kirk had maneuvered himself until their thighs were touching. Neither had pulled away after one minute passed. Much of this time Kirk spent gazing into Spock’s eyes, while Spock stared back, unable to break the contact and unsure how to proceed.

Spock blinked. The picnic and Spock’s declaration of romantic intent had had little effect on Kirk’s attitude. In fact, the cadet seemed more adamant than ever if, as Spock hypothesized, the glazed look in Kirk’s eyes signified feelings of lust. He must be more resilient than Vro’s human suitors had been. Apparently, Spock would have to ‘up the ante.’

“If my… feelings are reciprocated, and if you are amenable, I wish to continue our interaction later this evening over dinner at 19:00 hours.”

Kirk gave him a slow grin. “You warmed up real quick, Spock.”

“I am wearing an extra thermal layer due to the decrease in temperature over the autumn months, which keeps me sufficiently warm. Are you amendable?”

Leaning back on an elbow, Kirk looked up at Spock. The angle of Kirk’s face at this height was pleasing. “I am very amenable,” he replied. 

*

_…the human emotion ‘jealousy’ is often a destructive force within human relationships causing correlated feelings of distrust and resentment between two parties…_

 

Kirk had distracted Spock during their evening meal by drawing him into discussions about chess strategies, the latest starship model being used to build the fleet’s new flagship, the cadet’s continued obsession with the Kobayashi Maru, and a myriad of other topics. Spock estimated they spent 4.7 minutes together in silence, most of which had transpired while Jim used the restroom. After being driven home by hover bike, Spock had invited Jim in for tea. Although he was aware of the implications of this offer to humans, Spock was not prepared to take his experiment to such extremes. However, to not invite Jim in would seem standoffish and perpetuate Kirk’s hunting instincts. Though surprised, Spock was relieved when Kirk refused because of an exam he needed to prepare for. Spock had gotten the distinct impression it was unlike Kirk to refuse such offers. Perhaps Spock’s efforts to elude Kirk were already working. The next day, Spock decided to test the results of the first stage of his experiment.

Spock waited outside Kirk’s tactical strategies classroom. When he recognized a blond head emerging from the door among a group of peers, he called out. 

“Jim.”

“Spock, hey!” Jim waved his hand over a Tellarite’s head, jumping up a down, and then inched his way across to Spock through gaps among the crowd of students. “Hi.” He grinned, looking up at Spock from where he stood, two inches from Spock’s body. “Thanks for yesterday. The dinner and the picnic. It was really great.”

“Thanks are not required. However, I am pleased you had a pleasant time.” Spock ignored the natural instincts telling him to put distance between them. “Will you join me for lunch? I reviewed your schedule and noticed you have no classes over the next two hours.”

Kirk raised his eyebrows. “Been stalking me, huh? That’s pretty flattering. But, I can’t. I made plans to meet Bones for lunch.” His eyes brightened. “But, you can join us. I want to introduce you to Bones, anyway. I bet you guys would really get along.”

Spock frowned. His plan to overwhelm Kirk with romance would be dulled by the presence of another. However, any refusal could initiate Kirk’s human instinct to chase after his prospective mate. 

“I will join you.” And though he was disgruntled to admit it, there was a sense of curiosity about the human named Bones who Kirk spoke much off. In fact, here was another opportunity to put one of Vro’s suggestions to practice.

“Great, let’s go.” Kirk grabbed Spock’s upper arm, tugging him down the hall toward the mess.

Kirk approached a man who, Spock observed from the amount of lines on his face, was in his early thirties. He was seated, eating a salad rather voraciously. From the familiar way Kirk greeted him, slapping the man on the arm, declaring loudly, “hey, old man, you started without me!” Spock assumed this was indeed, Bones. 

Bones started, then waved his fork in a threatening manner at Kirk. “You took too long and I’m damn hungry. Here,” he pushed another plate full of salad toward Kirk. “Eat this.” Bending his head, Bones continued eating his own meal.

“Spock, this is Bones. Bones this is Spock.” Bones’ head snapped back up and he glared at Spock. It was not a very welcoming expression though from the way he had addressed Kirk, who apparently was his friend, Spock was not surprised by the man’s unfriendly demeanor. Kirk moved to the other side of the table to pull out a chair. Instead of seating himself in it, he looked to Spock and gestured toward the chair.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Do you require assistance?”

“No, Spock,” he laughed. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. Have a seat.”

Normally, Spock would protest such a gesture. It was superfluous; Spock was capable of pulling out his own chair. However, he yielded. Challenging Kirk would only ruin Spock’s original strategy. “Thank you,” he responded, lowering himself into the chair against his better nature. Bones’ belligerent glare had remained on Spock the entire time.

Kirk placed the salad plate Bones had acquired in front of Spock. “Here, Spock, you like vegetables. I’m going to grab a burger, be right back.” Spock watched him leave. The idea of being alone in the presence of Kirk’s cantankerous friend was an unpleasant one.

“So. You’re, Spock,” Bones grunted.

“I am.” Although Kirk had described Bones as a more logical being through his negative responses to Kirk’s often perilous activities, the man was still prone to illogical repetition of facts just like his other fellow humans.

“Was beginning to think you weren’t real, the way Jim talks about you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am real, as you can see. Does Jim experience hallucinations?”

“No.” Bones crossed his arms. “Though the way he works himself to the bone it’s a miracle he isn’t seeing angels.”

“Jim does have an abnormally full schedule for a human with limited stamina.”

“You’re telling me! If he keeps up at this pace, he’ll have an aneurism at twenty five before he gets his precious captain stripes.” Bones speared a slice of cucumber with gratuitous aggression. “You should talk to him. Tell him to slow down and breathe. Maybe he’d listen to you.”

“If Jim ignores the advice of a qualified medical professional, as I have been informed you are, I highly doubt my input on the matter would make any difference.”

“Ha! He’s smitten.” Bones pointed a single finger at Spock. “With you. He’d probably do anything you tell him.”

Spock drew his brows together. “That has not been my experience, so far.” 

“You must be going about it all wrong. Dangle the carrot in front of the donkey. Give him something good in exchange,” Bones gestured. “For example, tell Jim you’ll let him grope your ass if he shows up for his medical appointment next week.”

Spock straightened. “What donkey are you referring to?”

“You’re not talking shit about me, are you Bones?” Kirk had returned with a large plate filled with what Spock assumed was a burger, and what appeared to be deep fried wedges of potato.

“Nah, just telling him all the gooey stuff you’ve been saying about him.” Bones raised his voice a pitch higher. “Ooo, he’s so smart, Bones, so handsome!” His gruff voice returned. “On and on like a lovesick puppy.”

Kirk held up his hands. “Spock, don’t listen to him, he’s delusional. Doesn’t sleep enough. He hears things.”

“If he is hearing you speak words you did not speak, it would be logical for Bones to seek the aid of a doctor specializing in the human brain.” 

Kirk was laughing. Spock did not think laughing in the presence of a potentially mentally ill man was wise.

“I’m a doctor, and there’s nothing wrong with my brain. He’s the one that needs looking at!” Bones thrust an accusatory finger at Kirk. “Keeps skipping his damn medicals. You think you’re invincible, Jim. Well you ain’t. And you!” He turned his aggression on Spock. “Don’t call me Bones, pointy.”

“Pointy? Is that a derogatory reference? Starfleet regulations forbid the use of xenophobic statements.” 

Bones grimaced. “This one is a barrel of laughs.”

“Vulcans do not laugh.”

“No really?” Bones grimaced. “Never would have guessed.”

Kirk had been watching their interlude in uncharacteristic silence, his head moving back and forth between them, a grin spreading across his face.

Bones’ aggressive attitude toward Spock and belligerent protectiveness toward Kirk, as well as Kirk’s apparent joy over their disagreement, reminded Spock of an emotion he had been reading extensively on as part of his research. The direction of their conversation was proving advantageous for the next part of his experiment.

“Your attitude toward me denotes hints of jealously.”

Bones stilled placing down his fork. Kirk scooped up a handful of fries, shoving them into his mouth. “Jealous of what?” Bones asked.

“Perhaps I have been misled on the depth of your relationship to Jim. Unless your feelings toward him are unrequited.”

“Are you—" Bones spluttered, having trouble forming words. “Are you telling me—Good God, man! Now you’re the delusional one here. Jealous! About him?” He flung an arm in Kirk’s direction, missing his face by 3.4 centimeters.

“Hey!” Kirk looked at Bones, his eyes widening and his mouth pulling down into an expression of discontent. This emotional response indicated that Bones’ feelings may not be unreciprocated after all. Spock frowned, thoughts of displeasure invading his scientific neutrality.

“A human might say, ‘he doth protest too much.’”

Bones slammed a fist on the table, the force knocking a few potato wedges off Kirk’s plate, which the cadet quickly salvaged, scooping them into his mouth. “I’m protesting too much because this needs a whole lot of protesting,” Bones yelled. “There’s no way, no how, no possibility at all that I want Jim. He ain’t even close to my type. Can’t even stand him most of the time.”

“Come on Bonesy, you love me really.” Jim moved his arm, placing it against Bones’ shoulder. Perhaps the unrequited feelings actually belonged to Kirk, Spock considered, this idea even more disagreeable than the last.

“Don’t touch me with those greasy fingers, Jim. Goddammit, eat a damn salad for once before you clog up your arteries and I’m the one stuck giving you CPR.”

“Don’t worry, Bones. I know you can always make my heart beat again.” Kirk blinked his eyes rapidly, an action Spock was beginning to believe was flirtatious in nature rather than medical. 

“I’d leave you dead on the floor if I wasn’t a doctor and ethically forced to heal idiots like you.” Bones moved out of Kirk’s grasp, but Jim latched on to him again. As he watched Jim’s fingers squeeze into Bones’ shoulder, Spock felt a rising pressure at the back of his throat.

He stood abruptly, his chair screeching as it slid back against the floor. “This is unacceptable.” Spock moved the muscles of his face into the imitation of a glower, an expression that was easier to attempt than he expected. “You should not be laying your hands on other men.”

Kirk and Bones, distracted from their strange, insensible bickering, a contrast of affection and distaste, stared at Spock in disbelief. Bones was the first to speak. “Happy to oblige.” He shifted out of Kirk’s grasp again, and returned to devouring his salad. Jim did not move to touch Bones again; instead he griped Spock’s arm, as always, unable to leave his hands empty.

“Hey, sorry, Spock. I didn’t mean anything, seriously. We’re just joking around.” Jim squeezed the flesh under his hand. A shiver ran up Spock’s spine.

“You better be joking,” Bones grumbled.

Spock averted his gaze. “It is unseemly to touch one who is not one’s mate.” 

“Mating! Disgusting—you better be doing it at his place and not ours.”

Spock focused his gaze on Bones. “It is also improper to be sharing a residence with a romantic interest who you are not courting.”

“I am no one’s romantic interest!” Bones yelled.

Kirk’s hand slid down Spock’s arm, to land, unmoving, on Spock’s hand. The rush of human emotion that flooded Spock with the unhindered contact shook his mental shields. He forced his muscles to remain still. “We’re just roommates, Spock.” Jim said. “I promise you, there is nothing romantic between me and Bones, and never will be.”

“Damn straight.” Bones muttered.

“Your actions and speech demonstrate otherwise.”

Jim’s hand moved across Spock’s skin, his fingers slipping between Spock’s. “Don’t be mad. There’s nothing to be jealous of.” Spock’s hand twitched in response, a sign of his faltering shields.

Spock rearranged his expression into one of distaste. “Do you touch all your friends as you touch me? If so, my feelings on the matter are justified.”

“I didn’t think Vulcans would get jealous. This is kinda interesting.” Jim rubbed a thumb along Spock’s.

“Vulcans do not get jealous,” Spock snapped before thinking. The point of this obscene display was to participate in the human act of jealousy and put pressure on Kirk, not to refute it.

“Oh, really? But what if I do this?” Removing his hand from Spock’s, an action that sent a shameful sense of irritation into his thoughts, Jim practically jumped into Bones’ lap. Bones froze and a vein on the side of his forehead twitched, giving Spock the image of a time bomb about to explode. Indeed, Spock could use the metaphor to describe the dark sensation flooding his feigned indifference at the sight of Jim so intimately seated on top of another. 

“Hi, Bones, you miss me?” Jim pressed his lips to Bones’ right cheek. Spock clenched his fingers under the table, nails digging into his palm.

“Get the hell offa me!” Bones roared, standing abruptly, Kirk tumbling off his lap and crashing to the floor in a peal of laughter. Bones rubbed a hand roughly against his cheek. 

Spock took a step back. “If it is your intention to ignore my concerns and instead provoke me, I will excuse myself.” As he turned to leave, Spock realized he had let his own fractured control affect his response. Running away from Kirk would likely have the opposite affect Spock intended.

His assumption was correct. “Spock!” Jim scrambled up from the floor, grabbing Spock’s shoulder before he could take more than a step away from his turbulent emotions. “It’s a joke, I’m teasing. I’m sorry, don’t leave.” 

It was necessary to salvage his experiment before he caused Kirk to become more persistent in his romantic efforts. Spock was feeling emotions that would normally be carefully contained behind his mental shields, and Kirk’s unhinged affection toward him, however fleeting it may prove to be, was heightening Spock’s reactions. He could not allow this to continue. 

Allowing the emotion Spock predicted was showing on his face to remain for added affect, Spock turned to face Kirk. “If you wish for me to remain, you must cease your flagrant groping of other sentient beings. I am finding it most disturbing.”

“You’re jealous.” Kirk removed his hand from Spock’s arm. Spock felt like he could finally breathe easily again.

Acknowledgment of feeling was not an easy task for Spock, but one necessary to his research. “Perhaps,” he responded.

“That’s the understatement of the year.” Bones muttered in the background. “That look on your face. Thought you were gonna tear my head off.”

Kirk fidgeting with his fingers, a reaction, Spock had noticed, displayed the cadet’s nervousness. “You have to believe me. That touchy feely stuff with Bones really was a joke. I’m just messing with him--it’s what we do.”

“And I wish you’d stop before you give me an aneurism,” Bones replied.

“The way I touch Bones, isn’t the way I touch you,” Kirk smiled. “I’ll prove it.” Kirk’s hand moved upward, landing on Spock’s cheek. Closing the distance between them, he pressed his lips against Spock’s. They remained there for only a few seconds, yet the sensation remained on Spock’s skin long after Kirk pulled away.

“Goddammit!” Bones yelled. “Get a room!” Several other cadets in the vicinity turned at the sudden uproar. Spock felt heat rise to his cheeks. Although Kirk was not a student in one of his credit courses, Spock had no desire to be seen fraternizing in public. Kirk was watching him, his eyes filled with questions Spock was not prepared to answer. Once again, Spock’s experiment had derailed. Kirk was handling every emotional response Spock assailed him with remarkable composure and resilience. 

_Fascinating_. 

It would be necessary for Spock to regroup and attempt another stratagem. Spock breathed, stabilizing his voice. “Understood. I have a class in ten minutes, please excuse me.” He nodded to Bones, stared at Kirk a few moments longer than necessary, and then fled in as composed a manner as he could muster.

*

_…Frequent and repetitive declarations of love can often create a ‘fight or flight’ response in the human male. Expressions of emotion, although at first desired, may become monotonous to humans who prefer the excitement of a challenge when pursuing their mate…  
_

After repetitive failures at deterring Kirk’s romantic feelings toward him, Spock once again went to seek Cadet Vro’s advice.

“You’re being too Vulcan,” Vro replied after Spock described his previous experiments. “You gotta get under his skin. But not physically,” Gaila cautioned. “Jim is a sexaholic. Do it once and you’ll never get him off your back.” She nodded sagely. Spock tried not to think about the specific expertise Gaila would have about Kirk’s sexual inclinations. ' _Vulcans do not get jealous_ ,' Spock repeated as a mantra in his head. “Get more emotional with him.” Gaila continued. “Talk about your feelings, like all the time.”

“Vulcans do not talk about their feelings. I have minimal experience in such conversation.” 

“Exactly. That’s why Jim’s fawning all over you. There’s still a mysterious part of you he hasn’t dug up yet.” Gaila grinned. “Your feelings.”

“He did express enjoyment in provoking me into a state of jealously during our last interaction.”

Gaila snorted. “I bet he did.”

To prepare himself for these recommended emotional outbursts, Spock halved the amount of meditative trances he participated in. He would have to stay on his guard. His lowered shields could create turmoil under extreme conditions. However, the more fragile state he was now experiencing would make it easier to express emotions a fully functional Vulcan would never allow to be heard. 

At Vro’s advisement, Spock had begun calling Kirk repeatedly every day, once quite early in the morning in the hopes of disturbing the cadet’s sleep before one of his more trying tactical classes. Kirk had answered the call on the third ring, his voice thick with sleep. 

“Spock!” he blurted out, evident distress in his tone. “Are you okay?”

“I am functional.” Spock had replied after a pause, the greeting not what he had been expecting from a human roused from required rest.

Spock heard Kirk’s sigh on the other end, imagining the puff of air slipping from his lips, hitting the speaker of his communicator and the sensation it would create against his own ear. Apparently, Spock’s lack of meditation was already affecting his logic. 

“Thank, God.” Kirk breathed. “I saw your name on my comm and freaked. What is it, five in the morning?” Spock felt a measure of guilt for causing Jim distress. He knew Kirk repeatedly sacrificed sleep in order to keep up with his accelerated course schedule. “You sure you okay, what’s up?”

“As I previously noted, I am functional. Nothing is up other than the ceiling of my residence and a circular lighting fixture. I am calling to wish you good morning, as I have been told it is common practice among humans to greet loved ones upon waking and to be reassured by the sound of their voice before starting one’s daily tasks.”

Kirk made an indistinguishable sound. “So. I’m one of your loved ones, hmm?”

Silence.

“Spock, you there? Can you hear me? Spock? Hey, Spock, you love me lots, huh? Just wanted to hear my voice, did you miss me? Spock.” Kirk’s voice shifted into a lyrical tone, his pitch higher. “Spock. Spock!” Spock gripped his comm tighter. There was an audible cracking sound from the casing. 

“I am present. My auditory system is functional.” A pause. “I feel a sizeable amount of affection for you. The sound of your voice is indeed quite pleasant.” Spock released some of the tension in his fingers lest his comm break and communication become interrupted. “I do, indeed, notice the lack of your presence when you are not near, and in such instances, desire to be in your vicinity 98.3 percent of the time.”

“Only 98.3 percent of the time?” The distress had returned to Jim’s voice, likely exaggerated to provoke an emotional response from Spock.

“It would not be desirable for you to be in my presence during more private activities.”

“Mmm, okay I get it. You don’t want me to see you taking a dump or picking your nose.”

“I do not pick my nose. It is unhygienic.”

“Sure, Spock, whatever you say,” Kirk’s inflated tone denoted the use of human sarcasm.

“Vulcans do not lie.” 

“You got me there.” Kirk chuckled. “Gotta admit, this whole anti-lying thing you got going has its advantages. It’s nice not having to question everything a person says.”

Spock paused. He did not lie. Although Spock was expressing feelings he would normally never say out loud, it did not mean they were untruths. Spock had never lied outright to Jim. However, there was a measure of deception is his current actions toward Kirk, despite the logic of his reasoning to dissuade Jim from his fixation. “Indeed,” Spock answered. “If only humans had the same predilection.”

Kirk did not speak for 8.8 seconds. Spock began to wonder if the cadet had fallen asleep, when his voice returned, his humorous tone gone. “Hey, Spock. You should know--you don’t have to question my feelings. I’m not playing games, here.”

Spock blinked, his grip upon his communicator once again becoming destructive. The undisputable fact that humans did lie, even if some only on occasion, prevented Spock from being able to truly believe Kirk’s words. 

“I know what it’s like to get screwed around by people you care about.” Spock’s eyes fluttered shut as he listened to the sound of Kirk breathing through his comm. “I won’t bore you with the details,” Kirk murmured, his voice hushed, “but, I just want you to know that I’m serious. About you.”

Illogically, Spock wanted to believe Kirk’s affection for him was genuine, and not believe it at the same time for the sake of his own control. Jim brought out human feelings in Spock, emotions he had kept hidden most of his life. To settle the warmth suddenly flooding his body, Spock reminded himself of Kirk’s flirtations, his obsession with the Kobayashi Maru and Spock’s involvement in the test, as well as the dubious conversation Uhura had overheard

“Your assurance on this matter is appreciated,” Spock replied, his voice sounding like a stranger’s, lacking the detached tone that had remained unbroken since childhood. “My apologies for disturbing your rest.” 

“S’okay, Spock.” Kirk yawned. “You call me any time.”

Spock would do as Kirk requested for the next few days, calling Jim for assurances of his wellbeing, to ask him the meaning of a human idiom he had heard one of his students say, to make a simple observation he doubted Kirk would have interest in, to share an interlude Spock had found particularly fascinating, to give an affectionate statement, which Vro had convinced Spock was necessary, or ‘just to hear the sound of his voice.’ Despite Spock’s persistence, Kirk never expressed irritation during one of Spock’s communications, nor did he ask that Spock desist. In fact, Kirk’s voice articulated delight whenever he answered one of Spock’s calls.

*

_…The ultimate offense that can be made against a human who is only seeking the benefits of a casual relationship, is to invade the sacred ‘bachelor pad’ by infiltrating his private space with signs of domesticity…  
_

After dressing, this time out of his uniform and into more casual attire, a set of robes he wore while off duty, Spock proceeded to Kirk’s apartment by air car. Spock had called Kirk earlier in the day and invited himself over for dinner in an attempt to invade Kirk’s ‘personal space,’ as Vro described it. As Kirk had displayed no qualms about having his space invaded is the past, Spock was skeptical whether this particular experiment would succeed.

This would be Spock’s third evening meal spent at Jim’s home. The first two meals, Bones, Kirk’s friend and living companion, was also in attendance. Spock had used the situation to become possessive of Jim again, questioning the cadets’ living arrangements, asking how frequently they shared a bed, whether Bones was currently involved in a romantic relationship, as well as keeping an eye on Kirk’s hands. Whenever Jim stood too close to Bones, Spock would immediately insert himself between them or pull Kirk away. Bones expressed his irritation frequently and loudly. Jim seemed to find the whole ordeal humorous. Although expressing exaggerated jealousy irritated Bones into apoplectic episodes, Kirk found it endearing and increased his affection toward Spock significantly after each emotional outburst, usually through human kisses or by wrapping his hand around Spock’s. This evening, however, Bones would not be home. Therefore, Spock planned to attempt another strategy, which Vro promised was practically ‘foolproof.’

“Spock,” Kirk announced as he answered his door 2.3 seconds after Spock rung the bell, kissing Spock on the cheek. “Glad you could make it.”

“I agreed to arrive at your residence at 19:00 hours as you informed me would be an agreeable time. Excepting any unforeseen circumstances, there should have been no uncertainty about my attendance.”

Kirk patted Spock on the back, his hand sliding down Spock’s spine to land at his waste. “I hope you’re hungry, I made loads of food.” He guided Spock into the entranceway, Kirk’s hand a firm pressure against his lower back. “What’s in the bag?”

“Necessities.”

Kirk grinned. “Okay, mystery guy, you can put it down wherever.”

“I am not a ‘mystery guy.’ We have been acquainted for 81.8 days.” He placed his duffel bag down on the hallway floor.

“Yeah, but there’s still loads about you that’s still a mystery,” he tapped Spock on the chest and headed toward the fridge.

Mystery fueled the human sexual fires, according to Cadet Vro. Spock must assuage Kirk’s fire immediately. The contents of his bag would assist in this.

“What do you want to drink?” Jim called, his body hidden behind the fridge door. “Tea? I got some of that Vulcan stuff you like. Or if you’re feeling adventurous, Gaila gave me a bottle of something. She told me to drink it with someone special.” 

Spock had begun removing the contents of his bag and placing them in appropriate locations in Kirk’s rooms. “That would be acceptable.”

“Really? Okay, Gaila’s mystery booze it is.” He heard Kirk moving around the kitchen, opening cupboards, placing glasses on the counter, liquid filling them. Spock removed the last item from the bag, his toothbrush, and placed it a cup in the bathroom. He washed his hands then joined Kirk in the kitchen.

“Cheers, Spock.” Kirk handed him a glass filled with a dark brown liquid. “To mystery.” Kirk took a sip of his drink, and Spock mimicked him. The beverage was sweet and thick with the sharp bite of alcohol as an aftertaste. Spock took another sip.

Jim had indeed made a substantial amount of food, the table covered in various vegetarian dishes. “Hope it’s all okay. Bones nearly fainted when he saw me cooking with vegetables.”

“Despite his many faults, the doctor is correct in his estimation of your diet. An increase in vegetable and fruit ingredients is likely to improve your immune system by 78 percent.” 

“Glad to hear you guys agree on something. I didn’t even have to ask Bones for some alone time to wine and dine you. He made a beeline for the door when I told him you were coming over.”

“The feeling, I believe, is mutual.” Spock began tasting the dishes. They were not unappetizing. 

“Just wait, you guys’ll be best buds in no time. You just gotta warm up to each other.” Kirk filled his plate.

“Unlikely.” Spock took another long sip of his drink, sending a volley of heat from his stomach to his head. “I have no desire to be warmed by any other being than you.” 

“You’re becoming a real sweet talker, Spock.” Jim smiled at him.

Spock raised an eyebrow and continued drinking. The sensation it was causing was extremely pleasant.

The evening continued in much the same fashion, the two finishing the bottle of liquor and much of Jim’s culinary efforts between them. By the end of dinner, Spock was feeling quite illogical. Jim’s eyes had been shining at him during the whole meal, and Spock could not remember the last time he blinked. An irrational desire had overcome him to not let Jim out of his sight for even a second. 

At some point, his right hand had made it into Jim’s left, a movement Spock remembered making himself when Kirk had started discussing the latest discoveries in warp theory. Their fingers were now so closely entwined, Jim’s haphazard swirl of emotions mixing with Spock’s through the contact, that Spock was unsure where his flesh began and where Jim’s ended. This illusion was likely assisted by the faint haze interrupting his vision, a haze, Spock hypothesized, caused by intoxication from one of the ingredients in Gaila’s alcohol. Jim’s hair looked unusually luminescent under the overhead lighting and Spock was overcome by an overwhelming urge to touch it, so he did. And one he began, Spock had trouble stopping. He had been running the fingers of his left hand though Kirk’s hair for several indeterminate minutes, the fingers of his right making slow torturous movements against Kirk’s knuckles, when he felt pressure and the tingle of presence against the line of his jaw, the edge of one ear, over his lips.

“Jim,” Spock murmured. His mind wanted to say more, but his mouth was having trouble forming the words.

“I know, Spock.” And then Jim’s lips were on his, and Spock knew nothing but the feel of Jim’s mouth against his, Jim’s fingers against his own and the bright swell of Kirk’s emotions seeping into his mind. 

Spock lost track of the time they spent wrapped up in each other. At some point they had made it to the couch, Jim’s body pinned underneath his, Jim’s shirt removed, tossed to some unknown location, and Jim’s hands underneath Spock’s robes. This is the position Spock found himself in when Bones came storming into the room yelling. Spock was having trouble understanding, his head filled with the feel, smell, heat of Jim. 

“What the hell is this?” Bones was holding up a black handled tooth brush. “And this!” Bones lifted up a black bath robe. “Good, God!” Bones turned abruptly. “Can’t you do that shit in your room, Jim? Other people sit on that couch, you know!”

Jim twisted his head around to stare at Bones from where he lay stretched out on the couch. “You’re killing the mood, Bones.” He reached up toward Spock, linking his fingers behind Spock’s neck. Although a voice, faint, hidden at the back of his mind behind a cloud of emotion, said it would be wise to, Spock did not pull away.

“Stop canoodling and answer my damn question.” He shook the articles in his hands emphatically. “What the hell is going on? You can’t just move a Vulcan in without telling your roommate. You know--me!” Bones thrust a finger, banging it against the middle of his chest as if Jim had forgotten who Bones was. Though, in their current state, Spock supposed it was possible to forget such obvious facts.

Jim sighed, and shifted under Spock to free more of his body. Spock frowned, the loss of contact against Jim’s skin undesirable. “What are you going on about, Bones?”

“I just found these in the bathroom.” Bones shook the offending articles in his hand again.  
Now that most of his body had separated from Jim’s, breaking their connection, a modicum of sense returned to Spock’s brain. “The items you found are my toothbrush, and my bathrobe,” he answered, his voice thick, his words blurring together.

“No really. And what, may I ask, are your things doing in _my_ bathroom.” Bones complained.

Spock moved to the edge of the couch and straightened, untangling the rest of his body from Jim’s. He scrambled to reconstruct enough of his shields to continue the experiment he had put into place for the evening. “Possessing a toothbrush is necessary for routine oral health. The bathrobe seemed necessary to adhere to human modesty. I did not think you would enjoy seeing me leave the bathroom nude. And the bathroom in question is not yours, but jointly shared by you and Jim.” Allowing his shields to slip completely had been a terrible error. He could still feel the ghost of Jim’s fingers on his skin, no matter how hard he tried not to think about what just happened, and what almost did happen.

Bones’ face turned an unhealthy shade of red. As a doctor, Spock thought, Bones should be more aware of his rising blood pressure. “You got any sense left in that head of yours, kid?” He turned his attention back to Kirk. “Or has all the blood rushed to your dick? There’s no way you’re moving this green blooded hobgoblin in on me.” 

Jim was staring at Spock now, a question in his eye. “Spock? You trying to tell me something?”

Spock raised an eyebrow in return. It was becoming increasingly hard to focus all his emotion into only a single gesture. He would require a long bout of meditation upon his return to his own quarters. “As I am spending a greater portion of my days in your presence, it seemed logical I move my necessities into your home for convenience sake.”

Jim watched Spock in silence, his lips parted, an expression of surprise. Bones was muttering about nothing of consequence. Spock wondered if his experiment was finally having the effect he had hypothesized for his paper. Although such a result would help him form a conclusion for his research, Spock felt uneasy by Kirk’s silence. An emotion no doubt caused by Spock’s broken shields and lack of meditation.

“So, are you saying you wanna move in?” Jim finally answered, his voice quieter than usual.

“As we have a mutually agreed upon affection and attraction toward each other, it would be logical to share a living space. This is a feature of human mating rituals that is shared by Vulcans.” 

Jim eyed Spock warily. “Are you sure this isn’t some, ‘I’m trying to conform to human norms’ thing? Because you don’t have to push yourself, Spock. I can wait.”

Spock frowned. “Negative.”

The edges of Jim’s mouth lifted, his eyes brightening significantly. “Well, okay then, sure. You know how I feel, Spock. I can’t get enough of you.” Kirk tuned to Bones. “He’ll share my room, of course. You know he’s clean and quiet. It’s not like he’s gonna keep you up all night like I do.”

“Oh, hell no!” Bones roared. ‘This is not happening.” 

Spock stilled. He had been sure the sudden infiltration into Kirk’s home would cause a fissure in his infatuation for Spock. However, now it seemed only more firmly placed. Spock had made a grave mistake, one he feared he could not escape from without casualties.  
Kirk had jumped off the couch and was busy comforting Bones, attempting to persuade him. Spock still felt lightheaded, a loud hum filling his ears, the strange liquor and his broken shields unstabilizing him. He must leave, remove himself from Jim’s presence quickly, and place himself away from sight, before Spock caused any more damage. 

Spock stood, swaying slightly in place. “I must leave,” he declared, his voice overly loud in his ears. “I will leave you two to discuss the matter and reach a conclusion.” He moved toward the apartment’s entrance.

“Spock, wait.” Kirk followed him to where Spock was fumbling with his shoes. “I don’t know what was in that drink, but you’re kinda drunk. Stay the night, your stuff is here already, might as well.” He placed a hand on Spock’s shoulder. Spock flinched.

“That would not be wise.” Kirk’s hand slipped away, resting limply against his side. The sight of Kirk’s empty fingers caused a tightening against Spock’s side, his heart beating several times faster than its normal rate.

“I won’t take advantage, Spock. I’ll sleep on the couch if you want. I don’t want you going home like this.”

“It is not you I am afraid of Jim, but myself. I require meditation. It would be best if I return to my residence for the night until I am once again sober.” He moved to the door, turning to face Kirk once more. “We will speak tomorrow.”

Kirk watched him, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Okay, Spock. Call me, alright?”  
Spock nodded, and left, the humming in his ears following him out of the building and into the street.

*

_…Although humans often lie to avoid emotional confrontation within relationships, an excessive amount of deception will eventually lead to separation…_

 

Meditation had returned Spock to a logical state of mind. However, now he was sensible again, the situation he had entangled himself in seemed unsolvable without disrupting his research, or revealing his recent tactical efforts against Kirk and injuring the cadet’s feelings. The utter lack of distaste from Kirk over Spock’s abnormal behavior during the past 1.7 months made Spock believe that Kirk was honestly devoted to him exclusively. Once again, Spock had made a grave error in underestimating Kirk, as well as the strength of his own emotions toward the cadet.

The scientific decision would be to continue his experiment until its conclusion whether it proved the depth of human fickleness or the strength of human commitment. An incorrect scientific theory was just an invaluable as a correct one. Living together, spending time constantly in each other’s presence would be the ultimate test of Kirk’s affection. As well as Spock’s own. His utter lack of control last night, non-withstanding his intoxication and lowered shields, had questioned the validity of Spock’s indifference toward Kirk. Spock knew he was fascinated by Kirk before the experiment began, but he had not comprehended how deeply his attraction run. Even 12.2 hours spent in meditation had not removed the remembrance of Kirk’s hands sliding against his own, and the ecstasy his connection with Kirk had caused. Getting to the truth of his feelings and Kirk’s was logical. Completing the paper he had promised T’Pring was logical. Therefore, at a reasonable hour, Spock called Kirk to confirm his intentions and to discover if Kirk’s decision had been swayed by a sober mind and the complaints of the ever disagreeable Bones.

Kirk had not been influenced by either. He was committed. Spock felt slightly dismayed and more strongly pleased. Illogical.

Before ending their communication, Kirk offered to help Spock move his possessions to Kirk’s apartment. Although the assistance was unrequired, Spock welcomed it and the chance to be within Kirk’s presence once again. Kirk agreed to meet Spock at his residence Saturday afternoon at 15:00.

When Kirk arrived, Spock had already placed his few possessions in boxes ready for efficient transport. ”Is this everything?” Kirk asked, staring down at the boxes, hands on his hips, a grin on his face.

“Affirmative.” Spock placed his work bag and PADD on top of the small pile.

“I borrowed Bones’ car, so we can pile everything in there. I told Bones there’d be loads of room—you hardly own anything.”

“I admit surprise at hearing the doctor had agreed to our arrangement.” Indeed, Spock had assumed Bones would veto the move in, freeing Spock from any finalizing decisions. 

“I’m not. I told you he’d warm up to you eventually. I just went on about how you’d be a good influence on me. Eating more vegetables, going to bed earlier, maybe even some calming meditation. Bones is a smart guy, he knows you’re good for me.” Kirk winked.

“I believe,” Spock said after a pause, “that the benefits are mutual.” Spock bent to retrieve one of his boxes, eager to hide the warmth he felt suddenly spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey, wait.” Jim tugged on Spock’s arm drawing Spock’s body flush against his. Despite Vro’s warning about Kirk’s sexual compulsions, Spock was losing the will to resist Jim’s caresses. In fact, now that they would be sharing a room, Spock, illogical he had not come to the conclusion sooner, realized it would become increasingly impossible to ignore Kirk’s libido. “We never got to finish what we started last night.” Jim slid a hand down Spock’s arm to grip his fingers, pressing his lips against Spock’s. Spock found himself reciprocating the kiss unconsciously, both his fingers and mouth moving eagerly against Jim’s.

Kirk pulled away slightly. He nodded at the box in Spock’s arms, pressed between them. “Let’s get this stuff loaded up. The sooner I get you home the better.” Jim grinned, his breathing heavy. “I know the perfect way to christen your new home.” 

Spock complied, feeling breathless. He took a second box in his arms and headed out the door. When he returned to the entranceway to grab another set of boxes, he froze. Jim had moved to lift the box in front of him, but instead his eyes were caught by Spock’s PADD. He lifted it. “Oh hey, is this the article you’ve been working on?” 

Spock moved to stop him, reaching for the PADD. “It is not yet complete.” Jim was too quick, jumping away from Spock’s grasp, lifting the PADD away from him. 

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure it’s already perfect even in draft form.” Kirk began scrolling through the text, shifting away from Spock’s frantic hands. As Spock feared, Jim’s facial expression began to drop the further he scrolled through the paper. With one last desperate attempt to remove the offending article, Spock ripped the PADD from Kirk’s grasp.  
Jim stared up at him. “You’ve been writing about me. About us.”

“You offered to assist in my research early on in our acquaintance,” Spock replied. The excuse, although true, was feeble and he knew it would do little to alleviate Jim’s altered mood.

“You can’t think--” Jim lifted his hands in the air with a great heaving of air between his lips that Spock felt brush against his skin. “Are you kidding me?” Kirk turned away for a moment, and then back again, his eyes flushed wide. “Saying I would help didn’t mean you could use me for some experiment. God, Spock!” Spock could sense Kirk’s turbulent emotions seeping off him even though they were not connected by touch. It was the first time Spock had seen Jim truly angry.

“Jim,” Spock whispered. His stomach plummeted, as if he were falling from a great height. “It was not my intention to hurt you. I believe I misunderstood your intentions toward me, and, as you refused to free me from an, at the time, undesired relationship, it seemed logical to combine my research on human romance with my own experience.”

Jim laughed a harsh sound devoid of his usual humor. “Logical. You thought it’d be logical to pretend to be in love with me, so I‘d fall out of love with you? How is that logical?” Kirk’s feet moved, pacing back and forth across the hallway. Spock’s eyes followed Jim’s movements, each step making him cringe, a pain thrumming low down in his torso where his heart thumped wildly against his side. “What, did you think—that I’d get bored all of a sudden and dump you? You must think I’m a real asshole.”

“Early on in our acquaintance, I believed you were attempting to seduce me in order to gain information about the Kobayashi Maru test.” Spock moved to grip Jim’s arm, desperate to anchor himself against a sudden wave of fear submerging his reason. “Please, Jim. My assumptions were incorrect.”

“Fuck the Kobayashi Maru!” Kirk ripped his arm from Spock’s grasp, extending the distance between them by several feet. “I was crushing on you, Spock. I was infatuated with you. That’s why I kept asking you out—not so I could sleep my way through a damn sim test. Oh my god, and the whole time—I thought you actually felt the same.” Jim rubbed his hands roughly across his face. “I’m an idiot. So stupid.” 

Spock forced himself to breathe deeply. His hands clenched and unclenched where they rested vacant against his sides. “Jim,” he breathed.

Kirk whirled around to face him. “Oh, don’t _Jim_ me, Spock. Forget it, fine, I get it. I’m just some airhead hustler and you wanted to get me out of your hair. Desperate men do desperate things. Kinda funny you had to go to such extremes as moving in with me.” That awful laugh again, so unlike Kirk it was as if the sound were coming from a different man. “I’ll bet you a bank worth of credits you’d jump ship before I did though.” 

“Jim, my feelings toward you—”

Kirk held up a hand. “Don’t bother, Spock. I know how you feel about petty human emotions. I should have known better.” He moved toward the door, brushing past Spock. The brief connection Jim’s shoulder made against Spock’s arm caused a sharp pang in his head, behind his eyes. 

“Jim.” Spock followed him out the door.

“No, Spock.” Kirk was opening the door of the air car.

“Jim.” Spock grabbed Kirk’s hand, his skin aching to feel that consuming warmth again. “Allow me to explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Jim moved from Spock’s grasp and jumped into the car, shoving the keys into the ignition. “You’re just wasting your precious logical time.” He slammed the door shut and drove off. Spock remained standing on the sidewalk for about five minutes after Jim’s departure. This was wrong, everything had gone wrong.

*


	4. Analyze

_…within human relationships, emotional repression is not always logical. In fact, when involved with an affectionate partner, it is illogical to not express one’s true feelings in return._

 

Spock called Jim’s communicator five times that day, and another five times the next day, and the next. Jim never answered. Spock left messages, in voice and text format, which never received a reply. Visiting Jim’s home on Saturday night, Spock rang the doorbell once and when there was no reply after thirty seconds, he rang it again. He could see light seeping from the crack under the door—someone must be at home. After ringing the doorbell a third time, Bones answered.

“He doesn’t want to speak to you, you cold, green-blooded machine,” Bones roared and slammed the door in Spock’s face.

Spock attempted another visit on Sunday night. Bones answered after the fifth ring, his greeting filled with several more xenophobic slurs and curse words. With Bones guarding the premises, Spock would have no chance of speaking with Jim.

On Monday, Spock altered his plans and instead waited outside Jim’s classroom, intending to force himself into Jim’s presence if necessary. Jim noticed him the moment he stepped out the door among his classmates. He turned, walking quickly in the other direction.

“Jim,” Spock called after him, quickening his pace, his longer legs catching up to Kirk’s several meters down the hallway. 

“Leave me alone, Spock.” Jim kept walking, his pace becoming a jog. “I’m not interested in being your guinea pig anymore.”

“I do not wish you to be a guinea pig. I only wish to speak with you.”

“The tables have really turned, haven’t they?” Kirk commented. “Can’t get enough of me now, huh? Now that your precious research is screwed.”

“My research is not my primary concern at this moment.”

Kirk finally stopped to face Spock. "So, Vulcans do lie, after all." Jim smirked, an expression of humour that did not reach his eyes. 

"I never lied to you, Jim." Spock's hands twitched where they rested behind his back. He ached to touch Jim, brush his fingers along Jim's, share the depth of his feelings through skin to skin contact. 

"It's Cadet Kirk, Commander. We're on academy grounds." Spock blinked. The tone of indifference in Jim's voice had been Spock's aim for the past thirty four days. Now, Kirk’s lack of affection filled Spock with dread. He realized how illogical he had been to discard Jim. Spock had been blind, not seeing the gift he had been given, such unwavering loyalty, despite Spock's erratic behavior during his misguided experiment.

“I misjudged your feelings for me, as well as my own for you. Jim,” Spock took a step forward. “You have come to mean more to me than I could ever describe with words. I offer my sincerest apologies for deceiving you, but know that my affection for you is not a lie. There must be a way for me to make amends.”

Kirk took a step back. “Too little, too late, Spock. How am I supposed to trust you now?”  
This time, Spock did not follow when Kirk fled.

*

_Expressing one’s emotions vocally and efficiently is a simpler task than attaining forgiveness from a human mate who is no longer capable of trust._

 

After their final, brief conversation, Kirk resigned from the xenolinguistics club. He no longer sat in on Spock’s classes, no longer ran into Spock in the courtyard or hallways, no longer sat with him during lunch and no longer called to ‘just hear the sound of his voice.’ If Spock had been unable to look up Jim’s record in the academy database, Kirk could easily have been a figment of Spock’s unmeditated mind with how easily he removed himself from Spock’s surroundings. Despite the return of silence into his daily routine, Spock was constantly distracted, his mind frequently wandering back to memories of Jim. If being away from Kirk created such emotion turmoil, Spock wondering why he ever thought it was a logical idea to extract Kirk from his life

Cadet Vro cornered Spock the second club meeting after Kirk’s departure. “Did Jimmy have to leave the club because you two are an official item now?” she asked.

Spock flinched. “No. We, I believe the proper term is, ‘broke up.’

“What?” Vro yelped, freezing in place. “Jim said you were moving in. Don’t tell me he actually kicked you out?”

Spock watched her suspiciously. Jim kicking Spock out had been the motive behind her original suggestion. “Indeed. However, Kirk discovered the contents of my paper and ended our relationship,” he answered.

“Shoot!” She pressed a hand to her forehead, her eyes widening. “You two were supposed to live happily ever after, not unhappily never after.” Her lips formed into a pout.

Spock raised an eyebrow, realization dawning. “You deceived me.”

Vro laughed nervously. “Well, maybe a little. I couldn’t help it, honest!” She placed a hand against her chest. “You two were so cute together, and Jim got all googly eyed when you were around, not to mention you watching him all the time like you wanted to eat him up. Someone had to shove you two together.” 

“Then why did you encourage me to… scare him off.”

Vro snorted. “Oh hell, that method might work on some humans, but Jim was really stuck on you, I knew you’d never break him. All that stuff I suggested was just gonna make him fall more in love. Jimmy loves all that silly mushy stuff.” She winked. “I figured you’d fall just as badly once you saw how earnest he was about you and realized he wasn’t just after a quick lay.”

“I see. If only your deception had worked as planned.”

Vro moved her hand toward Spock’s arm patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. “There, there, Professor. He’s just upset. If you grovel enough, maybe buy him a nice present or two, he’ll forgive you. Jim’s not one to hold a grudge.”

“I have attempted to apologize multiple times and profess the depth of my feelings for him. Neither has aided my cause.” Spock eyed the cadet, unsure if it would be wise to seek her advice after already being deceived once, no matter how well-meaning her intentions. “Would gifts be more effective in assuaging Jim’s anger?”

Vro rested a hand against her cheek. “Maybe. It definitely can’t hurt—worth a try. Just keep getting in his face like you’ve been doing until he gets fed up and forgives you.”

Spock took Vro’s suggestion, bringing flowers to Jim’s home, stuffed tribbles, chocolates, and other sweet foods, leaving them outside his door when there was no answer, or when Bones slammed the door in his face. He continued to wait outside Kirk’s classes, trailing Jim when he ignored Spock’s presence, found Kirk at his favorite hide outs, watched for his many friends to see if Jim could be found with them. Spock had professed apologies in variant phrases 122 times and expressed his devotion to Jim 103 times. Kirk had replied with silence or an angry glare 61 times, “leave me alone” 46 times, “not interested in more lies, Spock” 5 times, “can’t trust anything you say,” 8 times and “I need to think,” twice. The final response felt like an improvement, although Jim had yet to express forgiveness.

*

_…I have become familiar with the expression, “a taste of one’s own medicine” through direct experience from my human subject. Indeed, it is logical for partners to taste each other’s medicine, in a manner of speaking, to develop a common understanding…  
_

Five cadets were scheduled to take the Kobayashi Maru test in between the hours of 13:00 and 15:00. Four had failed to escape the parameters of the test, as predicted. The objective of the simulation was to introduce students to the darker aspects of command and prepare them for possible scenarios where death in some form was inevitable. Although the examination was setup for failure, how the cadets composed themselves during the ordeal was what Spock would be evaluating them on.

Spock was not in an optimal state. He had begun the session by inputting the wrong security sequences to begin the simulation. It had taken two more attempts before he could access the program. His mind drifted during the fourth test, so deeply he could not remember clearly where his thoughts had gone; though blue eyes, honey coloured hair, and warm fingers were likely involved. It had been necessary to consult one of the other instructors observing the test on the student’s performance.

The moment the fifth cadet strode into the simulation room, however, Spock was alert. He blinked, clearing any possibility of lingering daydreams from his thoughts.

Jim sat in the captain’s chair with confidence, crossing a leg at the knee, as if he had been a commissioned Starfleet captain for years. The way he slouched customarily to the right, an elbow leaning against the armrest, knuckle against chin, only made the cadet look more comfortable in the chair.

Spock forcefully pulled his eyes away from Kirk’s silhouette, attractively framed in the dimmed lighting of the simulation room, when an email notification flashed on his console screen. Clicking open his email program, Spock blinked at the subject header.

 **Subject:** _We Need to Talk_  
**From:** _Jim Kirk_

Spock glanced back down at Jim again, watching the fingers of his left hand tap against the chair’s console erratically as he commanded his fellow cadet’s through the simulation. His voice, tinted with humor, a tone Spock had become accustomed to hearing from Jim, but which had been lacking since their break up, echoing through the room, filling Spock’s ear, drowning out the sound of simulated phaser fire and the comments of the instructors around him. 

Pursing the curve his lips threatened to form, Spock opened the email.

His screen went blank. In the room below, the simulation flickered off for 3.2 seconds before resuming. Unfazed, Kirk began ordering tactical to fire on all enemy ships and succeeded, which was not supposed to be possible in the parameters of the simulation. Spock rebooted his console and typed a sequence into the program. It refused to respond.

“How the hell did that kid beat your test?” Lieutenant Harris asked, rousing Spock from the infected code he was perusing on the screen in front of him.

By distracting him beyond logic and constructing a computer virus more advanced than his own security programming, Spock assumed. “I do not know,” he replied.

*

_…indeed, Vulcans possess the ability to express emotions even more accurately than speech. This skill can be an effective method for clearing misunderstandings within a troubled relationship…_

 

Spock was waiting for Kirk outside the testing room when the cadet exited.

As Jim drew closer, Spock’s eyes widened minimally. Since their break up it had become the norm for Jim to flee Spock’s presence within two seconds of spotting him. Usually, Spock needed to chase Jim down the hall before gaining his attention.

“You used my current emotional weakness against me in order to infiltrate the Kobayashi Maru’s coding.”

Kirk paused 6.1 meters from where Spock stood. “I was just living up to your expectations, Spock. Giving you a taste of your own medicine.” Jim crossed his arms across his chest, leaning forward. “You thought I was using you to beat the Maru, so I did. You already punished me for something I didn’t do. Figured I might as well do it and reap some of the rewards.”

Spock rested his arms behind his back, but then redirected his movements, leaving his hands at his side and stepping two feet closer to Jim. “You indeed exceeded my expectations. Although I erringly opened a personal email when I should have been concentrating on the exam I had been assigned to oversee, my security programming and anti-virus protection should have prevented your worm from penetrating the system. I once again underestimated you, Jim. Logic dictates that I should have learned from my mistakes long ago and given you the respect you are worthy of.”

Kirk unfolded his arms. “Damn, Spock. You’re making my heart flutter a little.”

“If the heart murmur you are experiencing is in regards to my person rather than a medical issue, then I will proceed to offer my sincerest apologies, admit that using you as I did was wrong, and request your forgiveness in the hopes that we may once again resume our courtship.”

“Are you ever gonna call it quits?” Jim sighed.

“If you are inquiring whether I will desist in my attempts to once again gain your favour, then no, I will not be calling it quits.” 

There was a familiar tug at Kirk’s lips, faint but a welcome sight sparking a hopeful glimmer in Spock. “And I thought I was stubborn,” Jim grumbled.

“It is generally thought that common traits can be a source of bonding between couples.”

“So is not messing with your boyfriend’s feelings for some anthropological experiment.”

Spock lowered his gaze. “Indeed.” He glanced back up. “Jim. I truly am sorry. If I could take back my actions and start our relationship again with the sounder sense of logic I have developed, I would do so. If I must wait outside your door another one hundred and twenty two times to earn your trust, I will do so.”

Kirk sighed. “I don’t know, Spock. I’ve been messed with one too many times and I’m sick of getting stepped all over. I want to believe you, but how can I be sure?”

Spock blinked, breathing in deeply. “There is a way.” If his words were not enough to convince Kirk, perhaps Spock’s unfiltered emotions, too deeply felt to be conveyed through speech, would be. “Are you familiar with the Vulcan mind meld?”

Both of Jim’s eyebrows fluttered upward. “Yeah, kinda. So, you wanna fish around in my head?” He frowned.

Spock folded his hands together in front of him. “Not precisely. The idea would be for you to, as you say, ‘fish around’ in my head, instead. Vulcans are able to express their emotions more clearly when they join their mind with another. Although Vulcans do not lie, I have omitted certain facts from you, as you well know. If I lower my mental shields during a meld between us, you will know everything I know, feel everything I feel.”

Jim stared at him in silence. His mouth began to form words several times, but each time he paused. Spock tightened his grip on his fingers. The thought of joining his mind with Jim’s was both enticing and frightening. Spock had never melded with another without barriers in place around his more embarrassing store of emotions. Yet, the thought of his fingers pressed against Kirk’s meld points caused his digits to twitch involuntarily.

“I understand the idea of telepathy is unnatural to a human. I assure you, I will not enter your mind, nor touch any thoughts you do not give to me freely during the meld, if you should choose to participate.” Spock bowed his head.

Jim took a heavy breath. “Okay.”

Spock glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “You agree to the meld?”

Kirk shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. You change your mind already?”

“Negative. I would not have suggested a meld if I was not willing. Yet, I admit surprise at your easy agreement.”

Kirk shifted from foot to foot. “I’m not about to give up a chance to get into your head, Spock. You keep a load of stuff bottled up I never would. It’ll be like my own research—of the Vulcan mind. Might even out the playing field between us.”

Spock blinked. “Logical.”

Kirk smiled. “I have my moments. So, we doing it here?”

“A more private venue would be preferable. If you are amenable, the xenolinguistics club room is currently unoccupied.” 

“Okay, let’s do this.” Kirk brushed his fingers against Spock’s arm briefly as he passed. Spock, starved for the contact he once discouraged, decided to take the graze as a sign of hope.

In the meeting room, Spock spread his overcoat on the floor and sat cross-legged on top of the fabric. Kirk stared down at him. “There are chairs in here, you know.”

“A more grounded placement would be beneficial at this time.” He had never participated in a meld with a human before, not even his mother. Faced with Kirk’s untrained mind, Spock was unsure what emotions he would be faced with once he drew Jim’s mind into his own.

“You’re the expert in head games.” Jim sat across from him. Spock winced at the jibe.

Untangling his fingers from where they rested in his lap, Spock raised his right hand toward Jim’s face. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Nope.” Jim grabbed Spock’s wrist and rested it against his cheek. The placement was wrong, but the sensation of being millimeters from Jim’s meld points was thrilling. “But do it anyway.”

“As you wish.” Spock rearranged his fingers against Jim’s face and breathed deeply, lowering his shields. “My mind to your mind—”

Jim’s mind was a warm presence that filled Spock’s completely, rushing unbounded into his emotional center, an area of his mind that had never been touched. The sensation was breathtaking. Despite years of discipline, Spock’s mind drifted in the sensation, unfocused for a time. And then the idea hit him, of what he was doing, what he was participating in, Kirk’s willful mind moving freely through Spock’s, no shields guarding Spock’s human feelings, nor his more deeply buried Vulcan emotions. He was more naked, more vulnerable than he had ever been. A moment of pure fear shot through Spock’s thoughts. 

Something enveloped the fear, something bright and warm, like Jim’s skin against Spock’s hands, until the shock disappeared leaving behind the sensation of security and belonging. His own unshielded emotions were let loose in response, his affection, appreciation, love for Jim surrounding the blanket of Jim’s mental presence. Similar feelings caressed his own with an undercurrent of hurt and a brighter spark of understanding. Spock was touched—he had not expected Jim to open up his mind to him during their meld. He wanted nothing more than to drown in the comforting essence of Jim, but began pulling away. The longer he spent in this bliss, the harder it would be to leave.

It took a moment for Jim’s eyes to refocus on Spock as he gently extracted them from the meld. 

“Wow,” Jim breathed once his mind was his own again.

“Indeed,” Spock replied.

“So, you’re in love with me, huh?”

“You just witnessed my inner thoughts. I would think my feelings toward you would now be obvious.” Spock shifted, placing his hands firmly on his knees to control the tremor flickering across his fingers. 

“Still squeamish about expressing your feelings.” Kirk smirked. “Even after we pretty much had brain sex.”

Spock huffed, pressing his lips together in to a thin line.

“Does this mean you aren’t going to put me on academic probation for messing with the Maru programming?”

“I believe the proper phrase in this instance would be cheating.”

“I like to think of it as original thinking.” Kirk smiled, brushing his fingers against Spock’s. “Hey, is it true Vulcan’s have sensitive fingers?”

Spock quirked an eyebrow. “This is obviously a fact known to you, as you have repeatedly used my hands as a means of seduction.”

Kirk laughed, wrapping Spock’s hand fully in his own, his tremors ceasing with the envelopment of physical warmth and emotional contentment Jim’s strong grip provided. “And here’s me thinking I’m being subtle.”

“You have many skills, Jim. Yet, subtly is not one of them.” Spock squeezed Jim’s hand in response. “If you are attempting to use my attraction toward you to avoid negative consequences for your actions during the test today, I assure you this technique will not sway my judgment.” 

He paused, allowing the happiness he felt to express itself—a smile beginning where Jim caressed his fingers and ending on his lips. “However, you are welcome to try.”

As he always did, Jim accepted the challenge without hesitation.

*

_In order to efficiently acquire a human mate, one’s emotions must not be suppressed for the sake of misguided logic. Frequent expressions of said emotions, when reciprocated, can eventually lead to a rewarding relationship._

 

Spock could not help but wince when Jim dropped the last box on his bedroom floor. It was clearly marked ‘fragile’ on the top and on both sides. Evidently, it had been wise to wrap each item in bubble wrap before packing them into boxes for the move to Jim’s apartment.

“That’s it, you’re stuck with me now,” Jim grinned, bending to tear the tape off one of the boxes he had dumped precariously around the room. It would have been more logical to stack them against the wall where one was not likely to trip over them, which Jim had already done twice. Fortunately, Spock had been nearby each time to catch Jim before he fell.

“Nice moves, Spock. I’ll have to take you dancing again.”

Spock sighed, “If you must.”

Truthfully, the idea of accompanying Jim for another night of dancing was not wholly unappealing. The activity itself gave Spock an excuse to lay his hands on Jim where he would not normally place his hands unless behind closed doors. On a highly logical note, Spock found Jim’s posterior aesthetically pleasing in the tightly fitted jeans he often wore for dancing. Jim was currently wearing a similar pair of trousers, the fabric pulling across his skin as he bent over the box. Spock did not stop his gaze from admiring what he now had the right to.

“Hey, Spock? Did you hear me?”

Spock blinked, but did not avert his gaze. “I did not. My attention was otherwise occupied.”

Jim glanced at him over his shoulder, his eyes following Spock’s downcast gaze. “Guess, you don’t wanna unpack then?”

“Although unpacking would be logical, it is not necessary at this time.”

Jim jumped up and walked forward, his movements emphasized in the area Spock had formally been admiring. This particular walk of Jim’s often preluded his need for intercourse or copious amounts of tactile foreplay. “So, how about christening our bed now that you’ve moved in?” Jim asked, wrapping his arms around Spock’s waist. “Make it official.”

“The act of christening would denote that the bed in question has never been used in such a way before. However, we have already participated in thirty eight acts of sexual intercourse, thirty two instances of arousing foreplay, nineteen mind melds, and forty two nights of interrupted and uninterrupted sleep. Unless, there is another action I am not aware of that the bed should be used for to ritualize our cohabitation, I believe the bed has already been christened.”

“Forget the christening part. It was just an excuse to get you in bed, anyway.” Jim’s hands lowered, moving through the gap in Spock’s robes.

“Jim,” Spock murmured, pulling his mate toward their bed. “An excuse is not required.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on [tumblr](http://noodleinabarrel.tumblr.com/) for spirk spam and fangirling.


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